Lost and Forgotten
by Samsquatch67
Summary: there's something missing. He's known it since the fire... but he doesn't remember anything. He doesn't remember certain memories from before the fire. He remembers everything... but Sam. Sam and the fire. NO SLASH, Teen!chester, hurt!Sam, hurt!John past hurt!Dean. Angst all around! :P
1. Chapter 1: Drop off

**This is the second fic I've/we've written! Okay... the second one we've POSTED. And by we, I mean, well, if you didn't get the chance to read Trainwreck, I write with 'VanillaJohn' (Who is not on this site yet, *cries a little*). But anyways... reviews, reads, favorites, they help a lot!:D Thanks! Enjoy... *Rubs hands together, lets out an evil laugh (That did NOT sound like Metatron's smoker laugh from two epsiodes ago!) ***

*DEAN/JOHN POV* MISSOURI, MARCH 14th, 1996: Dean looked at the distant, slowly approaching school building with complete distaste. "Two freakin' months... why?" he asked, glaring at John, who was driving the black 1967 Chevrolet Impala. "Dean, I already told you... I've got business to take care of that..." John began, but Dean cut him off. "Dad... business? C'mon... I'm not THAT stupid. I know what it is... a hunt. Why won't you just tell me what the freakin' thing is and I come help you?" he asked, his face completely void of emotions that he hid quite well: Anger, irritation, disappointment, and stress... always stress. He sighed and waited for John's response. "Dean, stop asking me. My decision is final, do you understand?" he asked. "No. You can't MAKE me stay." the 17-year-old stated, quite to the ire of his father. "D***IT, Dean, you're staying, and that's an order!" John hollered, his irritation building. Dean flinched slightly at his father's outburst, replied, "Yes sir," and then returning his stare to the approaching building. John sighed, seeing Dean's expression. Yeah, he hated leaving Dean alone for two months. He had issues... who wouldn't? His mother died in a fire when he was four, and had been badly hurt in the fire... but on top of that, he'd lost his little brother. John grunted slightly to push past those thoughts and memories. Dean would be fine... he was 17. 'After all,' John told himself. 'Two months isn't that long.' He glanced at Dean again and then back at the high school that was less than a block away. John knew that he was getting closer to finding what had killed Mary... and he didn't want Dean NEAR that thing. He had a lead on it, and if it proved correct, of COURSE John would get backup... but not from Dean... not this time, as he had with other hunts. No... if this lead was correct, he would call in other, older hunters... Bobby, Caleb...

**SAM'S POV** Sam wandered through the slowly filling up halls, his black and green backpack slung onto his back. He trudged through the hallways, running a hand through his short-ish, fluffy, brown hair. He moved his hand to his shoulder, rubbing the top of the scar out of habit. Just some burn scar that was from the top of his shoulder, moving towards the center of his chest. Victor had dropped a candle on him accidently, or, that's what he had been told when he asked about it. Sam moved towards his first class, History, quickly moving inside and flopping unceremoniously down at his 'place' in the room. The thirteen year old watched the teacher as he slowly started out the lecture, occasionally looking back at the class with an glare to see if they were all still awake, and not texting

*DEAN/JOHN POV* By the time John finally stopped the Impala in front of the building, Dean was completely blank as far as emotions. John hated when Dean did that... shut him out, shut down and acted as though he didn't give a d*** one way or the other, when really, John knew that wasn't true. "Dean, I'll call you when I hit the next state." John said calmly. "Yeah, awesome. I'll be waiting." Dean muttered in response to his father's words. "Take care… watch your back, just in case…" John added, referring to well, supernatural beings. "Yeah, Yeah... I know." Dean mumbled, collecting all his weapons that he may or may not need, depending on if something did end up coming after him. He moved to the trunk and pulled out his backpack, then nodded to John, as a sort of 'goodbye, see you later.' John nodded in response and pulled away from the school.

John sighed, he looked in the rearview mirror, then pried his gaze forward, back to the road ahead. This whole deal was just bad. He was glad for one thing however... only one. Dean didn't remember a lot before the fire... he didn't remember one thing in particular. His brother. Dean didn't remember Sam, so that spared him the pain of losing a brother he never remembered having. John didn't know HOW it happened... the doctors had all chalked it up to a head injury in the fire... John actually guessed that they were right. Still, even with that, Dean had always been... off… after that… like he knew something wasn't right, something was missing that shouldn't have been. Sometimes John wondered if he should tell Dean... but he hadn't, and the kid was now 17... bit late now. Besides, it would probably only have a negative affect on him... so John decided that it would just be best not to say anything, and he hadn't... all these years. He sped up, driving away from the school that he would not come back to for two months.

**SAM'S POV** Even for Sam, history could get... extremely boring, to put it nicely. He still took notes occasionally, and, whenever he was asked a question, he could answer it. Of course, he didn't have to be paying attention to be able to that... 'luckily.' he thought, shaking his head slightly. "Mr. Smith, did I say something incorrectly?" the teacher said, looking directly at him with an almost daring gaze. "No, sir." Sam said, shaking his head again and waiting until the teacher turned around before letting his head rest on the desk. This was going to be a long day, from what he could tell, when suddenly, he heard someone scream, "HE HAS A GUN!"

*DEAN'S POV* Dean was moving toward the door of the school, walking in and sighing loudly... wait... something didn't seem right? Why? He looked down the empty halls... Oh... that's why. EMPTY halls. In a high school, it was unlikely at best that the halls would be completely empty, but now they were. He moved cautiously forward, one hand on the backpack he was carrying, which just happened to have his silver Taurus handgun... yeah, school or no school, he wasn't walking in without a weapon. He walked forward quietly, telling himself, 'You're over reacting, it's nothing... too much hunting recently... they're just in class.' He nodded slowly in agreement with himself, but still, that thought didn't actually make him feel any better at this point.

*SAM'S POV*  
Sam looked back with wide-stretched, light green eyes, swallowing back a lump in his throat as his eyes landed on the man... he was waving a black handgun, of what kind of gun he couldn't place. Screams erupted from around the class room, and the man finally aimed at the 14 year old girl that was a desk over from his. Her large, horrified, bright blue eyes filled with tears, shaking with a tremor-like-sob  
The decision was already made inside of his head. Sam stood up as he heard the slide rack back on the gun, he bolted and tumbled forwards, the already tall teen standing in front of the crying girl, literally just in time.  
It felt like someone had swung a sledge hammer at his abdomen, waves of paresthesia surging throughout his body. He was reeled backwards, toppling over a chair and landing roughly on the ground. He sucked in a shaky breath, his vision seemingly shaking before what seemed like his visual field was whiting out with a white-out eraser. "F...f..." 'ight it...' he told himself, quaking involuntarily.  
He slowly regained some thought process, and moved a hand to the wound on his left side, blinking until he could see a blurry roof and hear noises that all sounded underwater and slow motion... he would have laughed, if he thought he could, and if everything wasn't so... freakin' confusing!

*DEAN'S POV* Dean flinched slightly as he heard the loud, echoing, oh-so-familiar sound of gunfire. He instantly headed toward the sound, pulling his Taurus out of the backpack. 'First day of school, and I happen to walk in on a freakin' school shooting... awesome. Just my luck.' he thought, reaching the room he had heard the sound coming from. Dean looked in through the small glass window on the door to assess the situation. Instantly he saw the shooter, whose back was turned to him, standing just in front of the door. 'Okay, just the one.' he thought, but double checked just to make sure. He knew someone had been shot, but didn't take the time to figure out WHO just yet. Without anymore hesitation, he kicked the door open, slamming it against the shooter. The man, who looked to be about 20-25 years old, went sprawling to the floor, dropping his gun in the same instant. The shooter looked dazed. 'Good.' Dean moved forward, into the room and was quickly at the man's side. He was wresting with the idea of killing him... but he was just human. Not to mention, if he did shoot this guy, the cops would be asking all kinds of questions, and he didn't want to deal with that right now. He shoved the man's head against the hard floor, knocking him out. He looked around the room again, instantly seeing the kid who had been shot. "Call 911..." he said, moving toward the kid. This was not good... he took the teenager's pulse... still alive, still breathing. Okay, could be worse... but not by much. He looked around the room again, irritated to see that no one had moved. "CALL 911, D***IT! Are any of you listening?!" he yelled, which got several people to their feet, all rushing around. He set his backpack on the floor beside the injured kid, and unzipped it, quickly getting out the first aid kid. He needed to stop, or at least slow the bleeding. It wasn't good. He groaned inwardly, and pulled out several clean, sterile cloths... 'Good thing Dad makes me bring this thing everywhere...' he thought. He applied pressure to the bullet wound and started talking to the kid. "Hey... you're gonna be okay... medics are coming..." he stated quietly, calmly. This wasn't the first time he had seen people injured... and he knew it wasn't going to be the last... although, usually, it wasn't by HUMANS. He glanced back at the man who was lying on the floor knocked out... if the guy woke up and tried to hurt someone else... Dean wasn't gonna wait for the cops... he would kill him. He flinched slightly when he heard a young girl's voice asking. "W-will he be o-okay? He saved me... the guy... was gonna... kill me..." Dean looked up at the girl. She was crying, her whole body was shaking. He blinked rapidly and looked down at the kid who had been shot. He wasn't gonna say yes... he wasn't going to say no either, so he didn't answer. He heard someone behind him talking to an operator and asking for an ambulance and the police to show up, then giving the details of what had happened. "C'mon kid... stay with me." he said quietly, looking at the teen's eyes, which were actually open... he was awake-ish.

*S&D's POV* Slurred, almost underwater sounding voices reached his ears, something about '911', 'd***it', 'kill me' and... 'C'mon kid... stay with me.' the only thing that sounded clear, or, clear enough to understand. Sam shivered for several seconds, he could tell his body had started producing endorphins. The thirteen year old groaned quietly, looking up at the slowly un-blurring images. A guy, maybe, twenty, or younger was above him, that's where the voice had come from obviously. He moved his bloodied hand, gripping his brown leather jacket sleeve and tugged weakly, "'vrryones, 'kay?" he asked, looking up with large, hazel colored eyes.

Dean looked into the kid's eyes, which were almost a mirror of his own, and nodded slowly. The kid didn't deserve this... "Yeah, thanks to you." he stated quietly. He kept constant pressure on the wound... it was not in a good place...from what he could tell, the bullet had gone through, and was no longer lodged inside him... that could be good or bad, still, he knew a little bit too much to assume that the kid was just going to be fine. He began to wonder how far away the ambulance was... they could never be too close. The cloths were now soaked through by the crimson blood at this point, and what he was doing was only slowing the blood flow, but not nearly enough to make a clear difference.

"M-mk." Sam said, nodding slowly and feeling like his eyelids were one hundred pound weights. Slowly they started to slid shut, with him desperately fighting to keep his eyes open, eyelids flickering at the attempts. He moaned slowly, still fighting to stay conscious, it was as though an anvil had been dropped on top of him and was now pushing him to the bottom of the deepest ocean. Even though the adrenaline rush was gone, the endorphins were starting to numb the pain, and to him right at that moment, he was perfectly content with that. His hand slowly fell from the older teen's jacket, sinking back into the slowly forming pool of blood underneath his left side from the exit wound.

"C'mon..." Dean muttered quietly, the kid was slipping. He could now hear the sirens in the distance, but would it be soon enough? He pushed that thought away and kept talking to the kid. "Where's your family... should I call them?" he asked, knowing that it was probably pretty clear that he should... he knew that. The reason he had actually asked was more to keep the kid from blacking out.

"Siblings... h-here... m' dad... siblings... 'll... call em... jst... f'nd... them..." Sam replied in an almost drunken sounding voice, as well as he could answer. "Tired..." he mumbled, wondering if that was bad or good. He felt exhausted, like he had been running a marathon for two days and it was four in the morning. Sam pried open his eyes into slits, staring at the blurry guy above him. "V...Victor... Smith... p-please... f'nd... 'em..."

Dean nodded again. He wasn't leaving the kid right now... when the medics got there, he would find 'Victor Smith.' But for now, obviously, he was staying with the kid. The room was almost empty now, with the exception of the two of them, and a few teachers, who were trying to help, but weren't exactly succeeding at being helpful. "Mk, I'll find him, soon as the medics show..." he replied quietly, glancing around the room and letting his eyes rest on one of the teachers with a look that said, 'Well, you gonna find the person?' The teacher stared blankly until they realized what he wanted. The teacher nodded and left, jogging out the door to see if they could find Victor Smith, Sam's older brother.

"Thanks..." Sam thanked, letting his eyes close again. "'M.. I... gunna die...? H-how b..bad... is... it..." he asked to quietly for the other two teachers that were still left in the room to hear, only loud enough for the older teen to be able to hear/understand. He took a shaky breath, his ears still ringing from the gunshot.

Dean didn't answer for several seconds. He wasn't gonna lie... it was bad. But he wasn't going to just let the kid die. "No. You're gonna be fine." he replied, completely ignoring the teachers now, they were standing awkwardly at the edge of the room. One left when they heard the sirens outside, presumably to tell the police/paramedics, where the incident had occurred. Seconds after the teacher had left, they re-entered the room, followed by several officers. Two of the men pulled the unconscious shooter off of the floor and escorted him out the door, while another officer began talking to witnesses to see what had happened. Seconds later, the sirens of an ambulance could be heard as it pulled into the school's parking lot. "See... you're gonna be fine." he said, sounding more sure than he actually was. At that point several officers were with him and Sam, trying to stop the bleeding as well, as they waited for the medics.

Sam nodded slowly at the guy's reply...s? 'No. You're gonna be fine. See... you're gonna be fine.', the ambulance sirens could be heard just less than two minutes after the police had gotten there. He finally let himself slip out of consciousness, relaxing in unconsciousness with steadier breathing.


	2. Chapter 2: The Truth

**Disclaimer: Don't own SPN, or Sam, or Dean, obviously... *Duh.* "B*lls!" ~ Bobby**

**UUUhmmm, so, because Vanilla KEEPS speaking of my 'profile picture', I'm here to stand up for myself! Doesn't represent Lost and Forgotten, or Trainwreck... OR ME... I do not look like that.**

**Afro man is awesome. Don't judge. "Don't hate!" ~ Garth Fitzgerald. OOHH and because I didn't say in the summary, THIS IS NOOOOOTTTT A deathfic! Anyways... moving on.**

**And, I officially unofficially named the last chapter: "Bruno Mars would be proud."**

*DEAN'S POV*  
Several hours later, Dean was still waiting at the hospital. The injured teenager had been rushed to the O.R immediately. Dean had followed the ambulance there to make sure that the kid was going to be alright. So far... he didn't know... hadn't been able to see him. Even when he could, he figured it may be a while, the kid's family had shown up, and they would probably want to be with the kid whenever he woke up... so Dean was there, sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, glaring at the staff since he had nothing better to do.  
Dean tried to keep his mind focused, but it was hard. As soon as his mind slipped, he would start remembering things that he didn't really want to think about… like the multiple times he and John had been to the hospital, always seemingly near death. The longer he sat in the waiting room, the more nervous and fidgety he would get, twitching at every sound.  
As soon as he found out if the kid was gonna make it, he was going to leave. He sighed quietly, hating hospitals... despising them actually. His mind drifted into a memory.

_Dean had woken up in the hospital bed, 4 years old, alone, hurt, and scared. He heard the beeping of some machine to his left… what was that? Every second made him more worried. What was going on?_  
_Dean sat up, instantly whimpering in pain and slipping back into the bed, then twisting slightly in discomfort. "Daddy..." he whispered quietly, looking around with desperate, wide hazel-green eyes. He couldn't remember what happened... he didn't know where he was, or why he was here._  
_Seconds later, John came through the door and rushed forward, sitting beside the bed and taking his son's hand. "Dean... it's okay, you're gonna be fine..." John whispered quietly. "What... w-what... happened... where's Mommy?" he had asked, his voice quiet, almost inaudible. John's eyes had filled with tears and he shook his head. "Dad... where's mom?" he asked again, fear creeping slowly into his thoughts. "She's gone..." John said, and tears slowly started making their way down his face. John looked at Dean, who was covered in burns from the fire. At least he was alive. John hadn't been able to save Mary… and he couldn't find Sam… 6-month-old Sam was just… gone…_  
_"Why don't I know what happened... Daddy... I'm scared..." Dean whispered, shivering slightly and pulling the white hospital blankets farther over himself. He looked at his hands which were wrapped in white bandages, as well as his arms, and… well, he was pretty sure that half of him looked like a mummy. What happened?_

_He felt like he was burning... and the fact that he couldn't remember why scared him even more. "I don't know, Dean... the doctor's gonna figure it out." John said, putting one hand on his son's shoulder, which had not been burned. "You don't remember anything?" John asked. "N... no..." Dean replied with a choking sob. "Okay... okay... It's okay..." John said, his own voice cracking with emotions. Truthfully... everything was very far from okay._

**SAM'S POV** Sam woke up to a rhythmic beeping, slowly his eyes fluttered open to be met with a white roof that the longer he stared at it, had some very un-nerving stains. He shook his head and tried to remember, the heart monitor starting to go wild beside him as he raked through his memory... Oh. Yes. It all came back to him in an flash. He moved his hand weakly from his side, fiddling uncomfortably with the nasal cannula, or just 'breathing nose oxygen thing-a-ma-bob.' Sam groaned quietly, the monitor slowly returning to normal as he slowly relaxed in the hospital bed. 'Gonna be sick...' he thought, wrinkling his nose at the smell of the hospital. Sam felt exhausted, drained, and despite the numbing of the morphine, he still felt a distinct throb in his left side around. Voices reached his ears, and he recognized them as his parents and an unfamiliar doctor. "He will look a little pale, shaky, scared, but don't worry, that's all to be expected. He should make a full recovery, but we won't discharge him for approximately two weeks, just to keep an eye on him. As soon as he gets out, he shouldn't do to much strenuous work, shouldn't lift more than 10 pounds for a week or so after. We'll subscribe him some medicines for him to take home for the pain, and he should now be on a road to recovery. And I... have to discuss something with you both." the doctor said, then there was a brief pause before he heard his mom ask, "okay?" "We did blood work while running tests, and, well, does your son know he's adopted?"

A wave of shock pumped through him and he could hear and feel his heart beat pick up again, sinking deeper against the bed and feeling betrayal... betrayal, confusion, shock. A yelp of pain escaped his lips and he quickly moved his hand to his side, pressing against the stitches lightly and gasping in pain, thumping his head back against the pillow. "Sam? Sammy!" his mother's voice called after the near scream of pain, and the trio rushed through the door. The doctor slowed down at the door, knowing that the pain probably flared from his confusion and shock at waking up. He took a moment before backing out of the room, going to tell the older teen the same 'update' if he was still in the waiting room.

*DEAN'S POV*  
Dean looked up, just in time to see a doctor, particularly, the kid's doctor, walking into the room. He stood up, sick of waiting for information at this point. He walked forward, meeting the doctor halfway. "How is he?" Dean asked, and then waited for the man's response. "Sam is alright, he's going to make it... thanks to you. I can't go into detail... Doctor patient confidentiality and all... but Sam is fine. His family is with him now... he will be let out in two weeks. I'm sure that he will want to thank you... so, you might wanna stick around..." the doctor added with a shrug. "Yeah, I don't stick around places like this." Dean replied with a slight wave of his hand around the room. "Okay, I understand that. Nobody wants to be here longer than they have to be. Anyway... thanks for what you did... I hear that you may have saved several people..." the doctor continued. "Hmm..." Dean 'replied.  
He was still in trouble with the school... whether he had helped or not. He had brought a gun into school, and they had seen it... so, yeah, he was in a lot of trouble right now, helpful or not. That ticked him off. 'Save someone's life, and STILL got in trouble… just for having a freakin' gun.' he thought. The doctor nodded and turned, walking away and leaving Dean to stay or go as he chose. He sighed quietly and moved back to the chair he had been in. He figured staying a little while longer would be fine... only a little while though.

*JOHN/DEAN'S POV* John practically bolted for the hospital door as soon as the Chevy Impala was parked, moving towards the large revolving door and impatiently stepping inside. He had heard on the radio that a kid had been shot at the same school that he had just dropped his son off at, and Dean hadn't been picking up for the past... well, since it had happened. The news hadn't released who had been shot at the school, or any information yet, he had to do research as he drove back, calling everyone he knew, and finally had found out what hospital it was, and he had turned around instantly, driving for about two hours until he got back to the town he had left Dean at. John stormed towards the waiting room, brushing past several people as he trudged up the slanted hallway and into the main room. "D***it..." he hissed, ignoring the lady behind the desk and moving forward until... oh thank goodness. He saw Dean sitting in a chair in the waiting room. John let out a long, angry sigh, moving towards his son and not knowing whether to punch or hug him. "Dean... Why the h*** didn't you answer my calls?! I thought you got shot, d***it!"

Dean looked up with slight surprise as he heard the familiar voice of none other than his father. "W..." he stopped, letting his father finish yelling at him. 'Didn't know he'd show THAT fast.' Dean thought with an amused smile for a moment. "Sorry... you left me here for two months Dad... figured I'd just bother you if I called." he said with a slightly sarcastic tone, then on a more serious note, he added, "Sorry okay... I just... got a little busy." he said, holding up both hands, which were still covered in blood. "Had to talk to the cops too..." he said as an after thought.

John let himself practically fall onto the chair next to his son, a loud sigh breaking from his chest. He had already lost his wife and youngest... he didn't think he could loose Dean. John ran a hand over his be-whiskered face, his face creased in worry lines though they had started to 'smooth out again'. "What happened?" he asked in a gruff voice.

Dean sighed and settled back in the chair next to John and looked at his dad. He knew that he had to explain it now... he didn't mind recounting the facts to John... he had to do the same thing on many hunts before this, so it wasn't hard.  
He started explaining it slowly, putting the facts together as they had happened. "You dropped me off, and then left... I walked into the building, a few minutes later, BOOM... gunshot. I took the guy out... Didn't kill him. Didn't bring any... unwanted attention." he stated, knowing that John would HATE the unwanted investigation.

Dean continued, "He was gonna shoot some girl, but another kid got in the way and took the bullet instead... I spent a good 10 minutes practically holding the kid's guts in." he muttered quietly, his words coming out with no sarcasm, but rather just sounding tired and concerned. "After that... I followed the ambulance here... and uh... had to talk to the cops for another half hour or something... didn't keep track. About an hour ago, they had it on the news... I assume that's how you heard. So... yeah, I couldn't exactly pick up my phone." he finished explaining.

John nodded briskly as he filled him in on what happened, hearing the exhaustion and concern in his voice. "How's the kid?" he asked, pulling out the Impala's car keys and tossing them to his son. "She's in the parking lot. I'll just ask Bobby if he can drop off my truck somewhere near-by." he said, leaning back into the seat and closing his eyes for several seconds then opening them again. "You did good, Dean. 'n I didn't think about money issues till I left, so hear." John said, passing over one of the credit cards, knowing Dean could get a job or run another credit card scam if he HAD to.

Dean nodded slowly, taking the keys and the credit card. He sighed and then stated, "Doc said he'll be fine. His family's here now..." he said. 'At least I won't have to take a bus, or a stupid rental car, or a freakin' taxi now.' he thought as he looked at the keys of the classic black car. He closed his eyes for several seconds, then opened them to look at John. "Thanks, Dad."

**SAM'S POV**

TIMEWARP: It was two weeks later, give or take a few days. Sam had gotten discharged from the hospital just the day before, and despite his parents arguing, he managed to convince them to let him go back to school. That, was no easy task. Of course, he couldn't even take his backpack, he wasn't supposed to be lifting hardly any weight, and, he had agreed he wouldn't do PE, swimming, or even walking for longer than five minutes as a fact. He had only brought the pills that the doctor had subscribed.

Resetta though, had promised to leave his backpack in his locker, so, he still had it, even if he couldn't carry it. The two weeks had been really doing nothing, at all, just the occasional walk and then back to the bed. Ugh. Each step he took he felt the aching in his side, only half out of habit moving his hand to the 11 inch long stitched wound.

Sam had been trying to find the guy who had saved his life, or find out more about him, everything came up as a dead end, so, he figured, might as well try and find him at the school. Sam trudged through the hallways at an oddly slow pace, trying to avoid everyone, at this point, he just wanted to be left alone to find the guy… the guy whose name he still didn't know.

There it was... the familiar jacket. "Hey... Uh..." he started, dodging several people and starting to jog to catch up, instantly thinking, 'mistake, mistake, mistake.'. He groaned quietly and leaned against a wall, stopping to catch his breath before he continued on, trying to get his attention in pretty much any way he could think of.

*DEAN'S POV*

Dean was headed to his second to last class, grumbling inwardly about being at this school. Hey, at least he had the Impala now, so he could leave whenever he felt like it... and judging by today, it might be sooner than later. Today had just not been… that good. In fact, the whole freakin' two weeks had been no good. He sighed and kept walking.

Dean heard someone saying something to get his attention, or, he assumed that was what the person was trying to do. He stopped, thinking the voice sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place it. He turned, looking back into the crowded hallway and seeing none other than the kid who had been shot two weeks before.

The kid, Sam was his name... was moving down the hallway, and then leaning against the wall before moving on again. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his eyes widening slightly. He figured that the kid wouldn't be back so soon... or possibly at all after what had happened two weeks ago. He would have thought that his parents would have moved him to a different school by now... but no, there he was, walking painfully slowly down the hallway.

*S&D's POV*

"School..." Sam panted out as he finally caught up, temporarily trying to catch his breath and not saying a word. "So.. um..." he said, swallowing harshly against his dry throat and looking back up at the guy. "Didn't really meet... 'names Sam." he introduced, not knowing if he knew our not, extending a hand towards him and blinking rapidly, hazel eyes that looked more of a light green with the plaid shirt he had on. They appeared more alive, young, and innocent now.

Dean nodded as Sam said his name... yes, he knew. "Dean." he replied, shaking Sam's hand and slinging his backpack over his shoulder at the same time. He looked both ways across the hall, knowing that he had a class... he figured it would be okay to miss it... lots of reading... ugh, reading... he quickly decided that he would rather talk to this kid then get to class in time. "How're you doing?" he asked, blocking out the thought of class entirely.

Sam nodded and smiled briefly, cramming his hands into his jacket pockets and glancing around, knowing he had a class in about... twenty minutes? Give or take. He looked back to Dean as he asked another question, only taking a second before replying. "I'm, uh, fine, better now that I'm out of the hospital. And you?" he asked, a very odd version of small talk.

"Avoiding history class... that's how I am." Dean said, smiling for a moment, then shrugging slightly. "And possibly literature." he added. "How'd you convince your parents to let you come?" he asked, knowing that parents... well, they wouldn't just let him come back to the school he got shot at without a fuss... that's how parents were supposed to be... right? 'Guess I wouldn't know.' he thought with a sarcastic laugh.

"Oh.." Sam said with a slight laugh, nodding before continuing. "It took some doing, but I'm here, right?" he said with a shrug, eventually getting in the position where he could lean against the wall. "So, where do you live?" he asked, tilting his head to the side just slightly.

Dean blinked slowly, not feeling the need to answer that question. He didn't really live anywhere in particular. He frowned for a moment, and debated whether he wanted to tell Sam or not. He sighed and decided it wouldn't kill him to give some information. "In my car... I move around a lot... only gonna be here for a little while longer. Don't stay anywhere for too long." he stated, shrugging it off like it was nothing. "I'd ask 'what about you,' but I'm getting the feeling that you PROBABLY live here... in state." he said with a slight nod and an expression that said, 'obviously.'

"Yeah." Sam replied simply, for a second his mind straying back to his home... his 'family'... he hadn't talked to them yet about what he'd heard. How could they lie to him for 13 years? Well, who knows when they adopted him. He had to some degree been avoiding talking to them since he had woken up... but now? He was going to talk to them. Whenever he got home.

The more he thought about, the more jumpy he started to get. And along with that came the 'blach' feeling, of which, he couldn't push away any longer. Since, that's exactly what he'd been doing all day. "Speaking of which... I uh... are you gonna stay for your classes?" he asked.

Dean looked up at the clock on the wall, then back at Sam. "And make it to my reading classes... no. Don't think so... what's the point?" he asked, sensing something else coming. He looked at the younger teenager, who looked somewhat ill... who would blame him? He'd been shot two weeks ago. No one just 'gets over it.'

"I was wondering if I could get a ride?" he asked, slowly moving to his locker, figuring, if Dean didn't want to give him a ride, he would find some other way to get back home. He opened the green colored locker, weakly pulling out the backpack and groaning in surprise at the effort needed. 'That's, new...'

Dean noticed the expression on Sam's face as he pulled out his backpack. He moved forward and held out a hand. "Gimme..." he commanded. He knew what it was like to be shot... he had been before... So, he understood what Sam was going through. He waited for Sam to hand over the backpack, and at the same time stated, "Yeah... sure. Just need to know where y' live." he said. "You're skipping out on your last classes too?" he asked. At least Sam had an excuse... probably felt like crap...

Sam gave brief instructions to his house, figuring he could point out any other streets, roads, or certain small things like that just fine. Slowly he handed the backpack over, and grateful, yet embarrassed expression crossing his face as he closed his locker, glancing both ways momentarily before looking down at his shoes, replacing his hands in his jacket pockets.

"Mk, lets go then." Dean said, moving toward the end of the hall, toward the exit. He walked slowly enough so that Sam could easily keep up. He pushed the door open and stood to the side, holding it for Sam. Once they were both outside, he headed toward the parking lot, toward where he had parked his 'baby,' the Impala.

Sam looked up at the car they were heading to, though he wasn't exactly a genius with cars, couldn't just say 'oh that's an...' something, something, something, well, THAT was a nice car. He waited until it was unlocked before getting into the passenger side, pulling the door shut and allowing a yawn.

Dean moved around the car and quickly got in the driver's side door. He started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, heading in the direction that Sam had told him to go that would eventually lead to the kid's house. He glanced at the teen, who was clearly tired, but also, equally as clearly, thinking about something. Dean was tempted to ask what, but didn't, knowing that it really wasn't his business, so he let whatever it was remain in the silence of the car, not asking about it.

Sam leaned against the door, head bumping against the glass as his eyes glazed with an distant look. How was he going to start off the conversation that was inevitable? Or, how would it FINISH? How was it all going to go over... probably not well. Well, who knows, it could. 'You really think it could? How tired are you?' he told himself, letting out a huffing sigh.

Dean turned for a moment, seeing the expression on Sam's face. "What's up?" he asked, knowing that he probably wouldn't say, and if he did, it would be a very vague answer that one would normally give a stranger, and that is exactly what he would be to Sam, a stranger. Then a thought hit him, why had Sam asked him for a ride, of all the people in the school... why hadn't he gone and found one of his older siblings? Dean shrugged and waited for Sam's answer.

"Huh?" Sam asked rather abruptly as Dean's voice cut into his thoughts. He looked away from the window to Dean, before looking back and shrugging limply. "Just thinking." he answered, looking back again then leaning his head against the glass.

Dean nodded, having expected an answer like that. He guessed they were about 5 minutes from Sam's house... give or take. He glanced at the road signs, focusing on each one as they passed. He frowned slightly and deciphered each one for what it was, though it wasn't exactly as 'easy' as it should have been. He sighed quietly and focused on the road again.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked quietly, noticing Dean frowning at every passing sign and then sighing quietly. He looked at the road signs, glancing back and trying to figure out what exactly he had been doing, only to lean back against the seat and wait for Dean to say something... if he would say something.

"Just... nothing important. Checking signs. We're on the right street... right?" Dean asked. Truth was, he was dyslexic... so reading street signs was like having to flip them upside down and look in a mirror to be able to understand them, but he managed well enough.

He still didn't want to have this discussion with someone that he barely knew. Of course, he didn't mind Sam's asking... and that was strange... normally, he hated people asking questions... but it just didn't seem that way with Sam.

Sam nodded with an simple, 'mk' to Dean's reply, then doubled checked before he gave another answer to Dean's other question. "Yeah, right street." he said, bobbing his head in agreement seemingly to his own words. He looked forward at where he knew his house was, right around the 'bend'... he could feel apprehension rising the closer they got, shifting in his seat every few seconds as he watched the familiar houses pass by.

Finally, Dean pulled up in front of a nice looking, two story house that was painted white, and had a slanted grey roof over it. The front lawn was still not quite the right color of green for grass... but it was early march, so...not even spring yet. He nodded slowly and turned off the Impala's engine. "This right?" he asked. Sam had said it was the fourth white house on the street, so he assumed it was right, but judging by the expression on Sam's face, it would seem that this house was the county jail. He looked extremely dejected and nervous. "What?" he asked, looking intently at Sam for several seconds.

"Yup, this is it." Sam said with a smile, lugging his backpack onto his back as though he was doing one hundred bench presses, which, it kind of felt like a hundred pounds on his back, come to think of it. He opened the Impala door and took a deep breath, looking back at Dean with an expression as if he was going to the gallows. "Family drama..." he replied tensely, getting out of the car and pausing before closing the door. "Thanks, Dean." he said sincerely before flashing a dimpled smile and closing the heavy black door, turning around to face the house door.

"Sure" Dean replied absently. He nodded once to Sam, and then watched as he walked toward his house. Dean stayed there, not turning on the car again, for some reason.

He sighed and pulled out his phone, staring at it for several seconds before he pulled it open. He moved on to the next task. He wanted to know why his dad had left him here... what was he after. He had a guess... but he needed proof. He dialed Bobby's number and waited to see if the old hunter would actually pick up.

*BOBBY's POV*

Bobby picked up his regular burner phone, seeing Dean's number he answered with a tired response, "Dean?" wondering if something had happened to either he or John... again. Bobby rubbed a hand over his face before pinching the bridge of his nose, taking a swig of whiskey and looking back to the book for the research he was doing for the hunter, Chase.


	3. Chapter 3: The Beggining

**Um...Cheez-its. VanillaJohn was eating Legitimate cheez-it's while writing this with yours truely. Vanilla has really bad breath, HA HA HA. "And that's what matters!" "You're not a grunt, Dean, you're a genuis!" "Aaahh... I did!" ~ Sam. **

**SAM/SAM'S PARENTS POV**  
Sam moved towards the house, hesitating for a moment before opening and closing the door behind himself, looking around the eerily quiet, large house. He made his way forward, instantly depositing his backpack on the floor next to the guest bedroom in which he'd been staying in ever since he had gotten home, not wanting to climb the stairs constantly. Didn't think he COULD. Sam moved towards the living room, which seemed more daunting than it ever had before... his mother and father were probably home watching one of their TV shows, if he had to guess.

Jonathan and Merissa Smith sat on the couch, both of them watching the news for any useful information they could glean. 5-year-old Jake sat beside Merissa, sleeping silently with his head against her arm. The three sat on the couch and only then noticed Sam's entrance. "Back from school early Sam... Are you feeling alright?" Merissa asked in alarm. "Why are you home early?" Jonathan added suspiciously.

*DEAN/BOBBY POV*  
Dean was glad that Bobby actually answered, well, then again, it wasn't exactly a surprise, half of the man's job was answering phones to get hunters out of some life-or-death situation, so he was always answering phones. "Yeah, Bobby... Uh... have you heard from Dad... he just... dumped me in Missouri and didn't bother leaving a forwarding address." he said sarcastically, hoping that Bobby would know more than he did.

**SAM/SAM'S PARENTs POV**  
Sam looked at Jake for a second, hoping beyond hope that his little brother wouldn't wake up... okay, so, he wasn't technically his brother, but, technicalities are difficult. "Why... why didn't you tell me I'm adopted?"

Merissa and Jonathan both exchanged almost horrified glances. Jonathan nodded to Merissa, and she scooped up the 5-year-old and took him out of the room, not knowing how this would go. Jonathan looked up and Sam, and nodded toward one of the chairs in the large living room. "We didn't think that was important Sam. You're our son... and we... just... didn't think you were ready for that kind of news." he began.

*DEAN/BOBBY'S POV*  
Bobby let out an quiet, inaudible sigh of relief as that was all Dean had wanted. "Uh, yer dad didn't tell ya?" he asked, rubbing a hand over his face. He figured Dean wasn't supposed to know then. "He was goin' on a hunt, guess he didn't think he needed your help." he said, shaking his head and thinking, 'John dumped his kid off somewhere, alone? Great parenting skills.'

Dean was silent as Bobby spoke to him. 'Didn't need me, huh?' he thought, that thought letting out in a long sigh. "Didn't need my help... right... because he totally gives a d*** about my education." he muttered, running a hand through his short blonde hair and then asking, "Where is he? Do you know...?" If anyone knew, it would be Bobby.

**SAM'S/JONATHAN'S POV**  
"You didn't think it was IMPORTANT? Not READY? So I learn from overhearing the Doctor talking about it to you both?" Sam asked, his voice quavering as he made his way to the middle of the living room, but instead of sitting down just standing in front of the TV, looking at his adoptive father. He clenched and unclenched his fists, gritting his teeth together and waiting for Jonathan to speak again.  
Jonathan sighed, clicking of the TV with his remote. "Sam... you're overreacting. We knew you might have this reaction, so we thought we best tell you when you were older." he started again, looking at the angry expression on his son's face. "We never meant for you to have to find out like this, Sam." he said. In fact, they hadn't meant to tell him at all. It wouldn't matter... he was 'their' son in any way that really mattered. They raised him, cared for him... no one else had... they were his parents.

*DEAN/BOBBY'S POV*  
Bobby let out a gruff sigh into the phone, letting his head rest on the book for several seconds. "No, he didn't tell me. Guess he figured I would tell ya' if you asked. Guess he was right." he said. "And yer father does care about you Dean, even if he is the most stubborn son of a b*** I've ever met. He cares about your education."

Dean heard Bobby's response, and wasn't quite satisfied with it. He said nothing for several seconds, what was he supposed to say to that? "Yeah... whatever." he let out a long sigh and then said, "Sorry... I'm just... tired of being stuck in this freakin' town with nothing to do but be 'Normal.'"

**SAM/JONATHAN'S POV**  
"Overreacting? No, no, don't lie to me. Don't lie to me again, don't lie to me about another one of your lies. Were you ever planning on telling me? You know what, do I even WANT to know the answer to that?" Sam rambled, his voice growing slightly the longer he let the emotions settle inside him.

"Sam!" his adoptive father exclaimed, shaking his head and standing up from the couch. "Sam, we care about you... that is the important thing. You know we never did anything to hurt you. NEVER!" he said, raising his voice at the last bit. Come to think of it, he knew that this would have been best if he and Merissa had told Sam, but they had never gotten around to it... and they didn't want him to look at them differently, as though they weren't his parents.

*DEAN/BOBBY'S POV*  
Bobby leaned away from the book and stood off the creaky chair, moving to his kitchen with the whiskey bottle in one hand, phone in the other up against his ear. "Yeah, I get it. I'll call ya' if I find a hunt near by?" he suggested in more of a 'you want me to?' tone, waiting for him to speak again.

Dean nodded, though he knew Bobby wouldn't see. "YES... thanks Bobby... you're a life saver." he said when Bobby offered to call him if there was a hunt near where he was. "But I swear, to much more of this place and I'm leaving, whether Dad wants me to or not..." he stated.

*SAM/JONATHAN'S POV**

"Yeah, never did anything to hurt me? I guess you're talking about physically?" Sam breathed out a heavy sight, involuntarily shivering and moving a hand to the stitches on his side. "WHY Didn't you tell ME?!" he repeated, his voice rising slightly as he slumped back momentarily before straightening up, sucking in a sharp breath.

Mr. Smith noticed Sam's painful gasp and instantly dropped the argument, long enough to ask, "Are you feeling alright?" he didn't want to continue this fight, this argument with his son. "Sam, I told you why... we thought you would have a bad reaction. To us, it never mattered... we didn't want you to look at us... differently, like we weren't... your parents." he said, thinking, 'The way you're looking at me now.'

*DEAN/BOBBY'S POV*

"Just give it a chance." Bobby said to the young hunter, leaning back against a wall and drinking more of the whiskey, 'think I need it about now.' he thought to himself, shaking his head slightly. "So, what'cha doing in the town now?" he asked in a tired, still gruff, hunter-like voice.

"A chance... I've given it two weeks..." he grumbled. "What am I doing now, like right NOW?" he asked, looking around for a moment. "Acting as a taxi service to wounded teens." he said with a slight smile at his own choice of words. He shook his head and leaned back against the bench seat of his beloved Impala.

**SAM/JONATHAN'S POV**

"Because you're not my parents..." Sam replied quietly, not replying to Jonathan's 'are you feeling alright?' inquisition. He moved sideways just so he could lean against the wall, making it seem as though he was just leaning against the wall from exhaustion or to stay in the shadows... and, that was somewhat his reason, the other, to hide the pain lines forming on his face. The stress was making his head pound along with his side. "Did you ever even care? Or did you just care enough so that you wouldn't have to deal with the backlash!?"

Jonathan frowned, looking at Sam with concern. He didn't want to fight with him. He truly didn't. "Sam... yes we care. Go to your room. Get some rest. Don't set foot in this living room until you can control yourself. Then we'll talk." he said with a long sigh. He ran a hand over his face and plomped down onto the couch.

*DEAN/BOBBY'S POV*

Bobby rose one eyebrow, staring at the now empty bottle in his hand. "Uh, okay?" he said in an asking tone, though, didn't say anything else on the matter for the time being. "Should I ask?" he eventually said with a slight, nearly amused sigh.

Dean shrugged. "Yeah... just giving a kid a ride... nothing too exciting... he got shot two weeks ago... that was a bit more...'exciting.'" he said sarcastically. He blinked rapidly and looked over at the house again and then said, "Yeah, I'm still at his house... figured I'd call you while I was parked." he laughed slightly and added, "No, I'm not stalking."

**SAM'S POV**

Sam moved towards the guest bedroom, opening and slamming the door behind himself after snatching up his backpack. He practically threw it at the red and brown blanket covered bed, flopping unceremoniously backwards onto it after the backpack. Why couldn't they have just told him? No... they wouldn't have. They never would have. But hey, why was he complaining, his real family was probably made up of abusive drunks that were disgusted with him... or he was one of those 'accidents'... "Or you're just telling yourself that." he muttered out loud with no enthusiasm, his words completely empty. Why should he believe anything different?

*DEAN/BOBBY'S POV*

Bobby laughed somewhat at Dean's 'clarification' of how he was 'not stalking'. "'kay, well, don't let him see ya, cause it sure won't seem that way." he said in an somehow serious and joking at the same time tone and smirked slightly, blinking rapidly and repositioning his baseball cap on his head.

Dean laughed at Bobby's order not to let him see that he was still there. "Okay, I'll try not to." he laughed. He found it easier to talk to Bobby than to John. Sure, John was his father, and he trusted the man with his life... H***, he had to. But still, with everything that had happened... he trusted Bobby just as much.

_The day that John dropped Dean off at Bobby's for the first time was a cold, windy day... the sky was gray, and it had been about 6:30 PM. Dean was still wrapped in bandages from the fire, but was healing now. "Listen Bobby, I'll just be a few days... thanks for watching Dean." John had said in a hushed tone. "I have... some business back in Kansas to check on." he whispered quietly. "Yeah, yeah... ya told me over the phone." Bobby muttered, nodding to John, though there was a slight bit of anger in Bobby's eyes as he did so._

_As soon as John had walked back down the steps, Bobby sighed loudly. "C'mon kid." Bobby called. Dean moved forward at a slow pace, staring up at the hundreds of books that lined the walls of Bobby's old house. "How're ya feelin'?" Bobby had asked. "'m okay." Dean replied quietly. "Yeah, sure y' are. C'mon." Bobby said, leading him through the house to the living room and helping him onto the red leather couch._

_After a pause that was far too uncomfortable for Bobby's liking, the young kid asked, "Mommy's not coming back... is she?" Dean had looked into Bobby's eyes with desperate hope, wishing that Bobby would tell him otherwise. "No, Son... she ain't... not in this life anyway." Bobby said quietly, sitting beside the distraught four-year-old that was now temporarily living in his living room. Dean sniffed, keeping back a sob._

_Before Bobby knew what had happened, the kid had thrown himself into the older man's arms. "I know..." Dean whispered brokenly. Bobby swallowed hard. Hearing a four year old say that he knew his mother wasn't coming back was more than heartbreaking, but the next thing he said made it worse. "She's gone... and... something else is gone too... but I don't know... I can't remember what. I think I lost something... important..." the four-year-old had whispered. 'D***it, John! Why don't you just tell the kid... if he finds out on his own he'll be a wreck...' Bobby thought desperately._

**SAM'S POV**

"Well once you're done pouting..." Sam loathed to himself, dragging himself off the pain and painfully started stuffing various things into his backpack. He needed to get away... He left his phone on the bed, figuring, he could ask someone if he could borrow their phone once he got far enough away. 'How far exactly do you think you're gonna get?' he asked himself and shook his head, 'gotta try..' he thought with determination. He moved towards the window, tugging it open as silently as he could and knowing just how happy he was for temporarily staying on the first floor.

He'd just... go to Pastor Jim's to think things through... then come back... yes, yes that would work. Quickly as he could, he climbed out of the window, shutting it behind himself and as he landed from the small drop his mouth opened in an silent wail, 'NOT A SOUND!' his mind screamed, leaving him in an state of shock for several seconds until the pain subsided. 'Said don't step foot in the living room... I'll just step foot all over the lawn.' the thirteen year old thought to himself, almost letting out and odd snort of amusement.

He slowly and painfully walked away from the house, his breath hitching in his throat. He momentarily shot a glance in front of the house, looking in surprise as he saw Dean's car still parked right outside their house.

DEAN/BOBBY'S POV*

Bobby nodded, and laughed again just slightly. His phone, or, one of them, started calling again. "Aw h***, it's Chase, he went into an hunt without backup and he discovered with horrible timin' that ya kill windeigo's with fire." he stated, sighing loudly and tromping back towards the phones in the other room. "Sorry Dean, I gotta go." he said in a gruff voice and hung up, answering the other phone.

"Okay, thanks again Bobby." Dean said, laughing slightly at what he had said about the other hunter. "Talk later then... let me know if you find Dad." he added, and then hung up. He started the Impala's engine, and looked toward Sam's house once more, surprised to see the 13-year-old moving stealthily across the lawn with an expression of worry, pain, and irritation etched on his face.

Dean frowned thoughtfully and looked at Sam in confusion, what was he coming back for… from the side of the house none-the-less? Wait, how did he get out? 'The window... why?' Dean thought instantly, and then remembered how Sam had been acting when he had left the car. Nervous, worried... what was going on?

*S&D'S POV*

Sam looked both ways before making a decision, slowly walking towards the car with the backpack slung over his shoulder, and expression of, 'so close yet so far'. He finally made it to the car, stopping and looking around nervously.

Sam opened the car door and looked at Dean for a second, trying to decide how to ask his question. "Um... when did you... uh... say you were leaving town?" he asked in an hushed voice, daring a glance back at the house and remembering momentarily his thought from earlier as he crossed the lawn. 'I should be a lawyer.' he thought and shook his head unnoticeably before looking back at Dean.

Dean stared at the kid who was now looking in at him. He shook his head for a moment as the kid asked when he wais he was leaving. "I didn't say when..." he answered. "Why?" he asked, seeing Sam look back at the house. What was going on? He waited for Sam to give SOME reason he was back... "Y' know... most houses have at least two doors, and they are MUCH easier to get out of than windows." he added with a sarcastic smile at the teen.

Sam puffed out a sigh, running a hand through his somewhat fluffy short-ish, brown hair, his other hand that was holding the backpack shaking from the constant weight which had never felt so heavy before. "J-just wondering. I need a ride to a relative's house is all..." he said, smiling briefly. He knew now there was no chance he was gonna get far on his own... not walking, not now.

Dean shook his head, wanting a little more than just that. He wasn't gonna take a kid somewhere with no reason. "Your parents know I'm taking you?" he asked, his green-hazel eyes looking calmly at Sam as he waited yet again for the younger teenager to answer that question. "'Cause... last time I came out through a window... nobody knew where I was going, and I got my ** beaten for it." he said, thinking, 'Well, actually, the LAST time I went out a window... I was THROWN out… that ghost was ticked off to an extreme...'

"No, they don't know." Sam answered, his gaze falling to the ground as he took a shaky breath. "I'll call them, I'm not trying to run away, I swear, I just want to go to my relative's house to clear my head." he said, feeling like he was standing on leg shaped Jell-O. "D'n please..." he said hoarsely in an sleepy sounding voice.

Dean frowned for a moment. Something about the way Sam asked made him want to let the kid come. Then, with a long sigh, he nodded. "Fine, get in." he said. He waited for Sam and looked once at the house across the street with narrowed eyes. "When're you gonna call them? I don't want to show up on the news as a kidnapper. For one... don't wanna deal with the cops... and for two, my dad would have my head." he stated, still looking at Sam.

Sam nodded gratefully, "Just a mile away or something... sorry to ask for something else, but can I use your phone to call them?" he asked shyly, getting into the passenger seat and pulling the door closed, tugging the backpack in front of himself and leaning back against the seat, closing his eyes momentarily then looking down at his shaky, ashen hands.

"Yeah, sure... don't see why not." he sighed, figuring, he'd already let the kid into the car… couldn't hurt, right? He pulled away from where the car was parked, turning it back onto the road and not looking back. "What happened?" he asked, not looking over at Sam. He figured something must have happened for Sam to want to leave his family... even if it was temporary.

Sam bit his lip and glanced at Dean before looking away again. He didn't know this guy. He was a stranger. 'Then why do you trust him with your life?'. He huffed out a breath and closed his eyes, thinking, 'you open the floodgates and they won't close again...' as more of a warning to himself than anything else.

"Why couldn't they have just told me? Why'd they lie? They never would have told me... I know it! I could see it... I mean, they've been lying to me my whole life anyways, so I guess I can see past their lies now. Adopted... Adopted! But then, at least, THEY actually CARE. No, my real family... I was probably an accident. That's all I am. An accident." he blurted, his eyes turning into pools of water. He cursed himself mentally, trying to rid his eyes of the tears before they fell, but to no avail.

Dean nodded slowly, slightly surprised that the kid had actually spoken... actually told the truth. he did know that was the truth... the kid clearly wasn't lying. "That sucks... but you're not an accident." he said in answer. He generally didn't give these speeches... but he didn't want to just leave the kid sitting there feeling like he wasn't even worth his own family caring about him. The thought bothered him.

"If you're an accident, you're the best kind... Dude... you saved a girl's life last week... don't tell me that's not worth something. H***, I'd be fine if you were MY family." he stated, and then thought, 'Why did I just say that? What did I just say?' Still, he didn't take it back... he meant every word.

Sam sniffed quietly, rubbing his hands over his face, only smearing the tears. "Really? You... you mean it?" he asked quietly, sounding more like an six year old than thirteen year old, and oddly looking just as young and innocent. He shifted on the seat and pulled his backpack closer to himself, burying his face into the black and green and swallowing rapidly trying to force down the lump building in his throat.

"Wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it." Dean replied quietly. He sped up slightly, wondering when Sam's adoptive parents would realize that he wasn't in his room... or if they had already realized it. He glanced at Sam for a moment, asking, "How fast should I be driving? In other words... when are your folks gonna figure out your not... where you should be?" he asked, shrugging slightly.

'They probably already noticed' Sam had mumbled, but through the material sounded more like 'pbly rdy n'ticed'. He moved his head away and repeated what he had said, before adding, "Can I uh, borrow your phone now?" he asked quietly, blinking rapidly and sniffing quietly again, repositioning in the seat and waiting for Dean to say something else.

Dean nodded. "Glove compartment." he stated, knowing that there were more than just one there, but it didn't matter if Sam saw those. It might matter a LITTLE if he saw the fake IDs, but hey, nothing hey, nothing he could do about that now... besides, that wasn't all that important at the time... most of them were John's.

Sam nodded briskly, pulling open the glove compartment and taking a silver and black flip phone, saying nothing about the several other burner phones that looked like they were just crammed into the compartment. He flipped open the phone and dialed their home phone, waiting for someone to pick up.

"Hi!" a small voice piped up which he recognized for Jakes. "Hey, Jake." he said into the phone, smiling slightly as he heard his adoptive kid brothers voice. "Tham! Mommy and Daddy are worried, 'bout you.. When are you c'mn 'ome? I'm bored." "I don't know yet... can I talk to Mom or Dad?" "Okay. *Out of phone* Tham wants to tawlk to you!"

"Sam?" Jonathan's voice came over the line after several seconds of waiting. "Hey Dad... I'm uh, fine, just going to Uncle Jim's. Just thought I would tell you... I'll be back, I just need, time. I love you all, hope you know that." "Alright... are you safe? How are you getting there?"

"A friend. And yeah." Sam said, nodding to his dad though he couldn't see it. "We all love you too, son. You'll call regularly?" "Yup." "Okay... bye." "Bye." he flipped the phone shut after a few moments of silence on the other end, putting it back into the glove compartment.

Dean looked at Sam for a moment as he talked to someone... from what Dean could hear, a little kid. He smiled slightly at the tiny voice on the other end of the line... he couldn't pick out the words, but it still didn't stop him from getting the 'gist' of the conversation.

Once Sam had finished the phone call, which only took about a minute, Dean cocked his head slightly, looking at the road, but seeing Sam in the edge of his vision. "That was easy... My dad would murder me if I just told him I was leaving... Oh..." he said, thinking, 'And what are you doing RIGHT NOW?' He laughed slightly at the thought, but made no effort to call John... he would do it later.

Sam looked up at Dean as he spoke again and turned his head sideways just slightly, raising one eyebrow as Dean trailed of with an 'oh...' and a slight laugh. "Should I ask?" he said quietly, smiling with an almost amused half-laugh before he leaned against the door. "So... Pastor Jim lives on the very edge of Missouri near the Kansas border... that okay with you?" Sam asked with a tired yawn, and a weak, almost drunken looking smile.

Dean's eyes narrowed slightly for a moment. Kansas... they had hauled out of there as fast as they could... he and John... after Mary died in the fire. After that... whenever Dean asked anything about it... John would clam up... he would shut him out and tell him not to ask any more questions. The thoughts still plagued him. Why wouldn't his father tell him ANYTHING about the night?

John had blatantly declined to even talk about it, and still, even now, he wouldn't... 13 years after. Dean was 17 now... and he found it more than just irritating that John REFUSED to talk about it to him.

It took him a minute to remember that Sam had asked him something. "Oh, Uh... yeah... it's fine." he said, smiling for a moment, though there was no actual feeling in the smile.

_The day 4-year-old Dean had been released from the hospital, John had practically carried him out the door at as fast a run as his father could manage. They had gotten in the Impala and just... driven. John made so many phone calls it was crazy. He would never let Dean hear him when he was on the phone, and was always so secretive about it._

_Finally, one day, when they were driving, John had gotten a call and not known that Dean was awake at the time. Dean was leaning against the door in the backseat behind John, he kept both eyes closed and breathed slowly and steadily, but he listened as John spoke. "Yeah... Caleb... hey. No, no new leads yet? I've been researching everything. I know it wasn't human... it's so hard... to... think that... it's real... all real. Nothing can do that." he said quietly. "It took Mary... and... I don't know if Dean remembers. He said he doesn't... I think he's telling the truth..." John had said._

_Dean tensed slightly and leaned harder against the door. "What? Okay, can I have the address? You think he would mind if I left Dean there for a few days? What's his name? Bobby… okay. Okay, you're SURE?" John had asked. "That would be awesome... okay, South Dakota... yeah. Okay... thanks yeah... I'll remember. Mk, I'll drop Dean off for a few days then meet you... we're just leaving Kansas... so it may be a few days 'til I see you." John had said quietly._

_Dean was only getting HALF the conversation, and that was frustrating, but even with only part... he felt fear coming back. As soon as John hung up the phone, he sat up and looked at John. "Daddy... what's not? You said it's not human…" Dean said quietly. The answer he had gotten had changed his life forever, from that point on..._

Sam nodded vaguely at Dean's reply, and wrapped his arms around his backpack that was in front of himself, closing his light green-looking eyes and leaning his head against the glass window, falling into an memory of his own.

_"We're adopting a son..." Melissa exclaimed, standing in front of the two filled couches of her family. Sam watched from the brown couch he was sitting on, gaping for several seconds before letting out an excited squeak sound. The eight year old smiled brightly, looking between Jonathan and Melissa. "What's his name?" "Jake." She had replied earnestly. "We want him to grow up knowing he was adopted, but also, we want him to feel completely a part of this family. So, he'll be treated as a little brother, and a son, just like any of you." Jonathan said, momentarily sharing an odd expression with his wife, having Victor join in on the same odd look._

_Sam pushed away a rising 'what am I missing?' feeling and only nodded vigorously. "I'll teach him how to punch!" Jerry piped in happily. "I can show him how to cook, which is a NECESSARY skill!" Resetta said, sending an accusing look to Jerry. "Punching IS a necessary skill!" Jerry returned. "We can have pillow fights, and-and.." another one of the brothers said excitedly. "I can teach him how to read!" Sam said with a shrug, still smiling brightly._

Dean looked over at Sam, who had become silent. He looked deep in thought... probably was. Dean sighed and stared straight ahead, blankly looking at the road. The sun was slowly inching farther down in the sky. They would probably make it to the edge of Missouri... probably. If not... they could stay at a motel along the way.


	4. Chapter 4: Traveling

**Not as interesting as the other chapter... But, if you skip you might miss something! So yep, thanks... (And Falcon is not a real place, I made it up. And pastor Jim doesn't live where we said he did, but, it just fit for what we're trying to 'acomplish'.) Enjoy:  
**

Sam re-focused on reality with a slight jolt, looking around his 'surroundings before looking back out the window. He didn't know how long it had been, probably not long, but he had been so lost in his own memories he really hadn't paid any attention. "Hey, can we stop for somewhere to eat, I uh, have some cash I'm sure." he said and asked, pulling out a blue and black wallet and shrugging slightly, waiting for Dean's reply.

Dean blinked rapidly and agreed. "Yup... sure." he commented, slowing down as they passed through a small town near the edge of Missouri. They were close to the Kansas Missouri border, and the sky was black outside now... it was about 9:32 PM. "Any preference?" he asked, figuring it didn't REALLY matter... so long as it had EDIBLE food... not rabbit food.

"Anywhere... As long as there's grease... and cheese... yes... and fat... And calories..." Sam mumbled, licking his lips and swallowing harshly as his mouth watered at even the mention of it. "My families all health freaks..." he said in an short explanation, his nose wrinkling. He figured, he actually might like it, if that's not all he had. Gluten free. Dairy free. Fat free. Sugar free.

"Oh gosh... now there is one way that I DO NOT envy you... Ughh... H*** yeah it's gonna have calories." he said with a slight laugh. He didn't get people who bothered to be over-healthy... SURE... there washealthy, then there was WAY-OVER-THE-TOP health freaks.

Dean slowed the car even further and turned into a cafe parking lot, sighing as he remembered countless times when he had done this with his father... just the two of them. Somehow... something had always been missing... but for some reason, he didn't feel that way right now. Maybe he didn't feel like he HAD to be around John anymore... he shrugged, unable to explain it, but not thinking anything more of it. He parked and turned off the engine, nodding once and getting out of the car. He waited for Sam, and then moved forward again.

Sam got out of the car, still laughing occasionally at various things. He moved into the café`, looking around several times before watching the TV. 'Information about Missouri school shooting released, the thirteen-year-old was released from the hospital two days ago...' he shook his head slightly and looked at the menu, eyeing the different foods and fingering the medication in his hands, supposed to take it with food. "What are you gonna get?" he asked Dean as he fished enough money out of his wallet before glancing at the older teen.

Dean looked at Sam and shrugged. "Dunno... that's the great thing about fast food... sometimes you get what you order, and sometimes you get who-knows-what... you never know with these places. I could get a live cow for all I know." he teased. Part of that was true though, you never knew what you would end up with. He laughed slightly at his own statement, and looked around. He too had heard the news… about the shooting in the school, Sam getting out two days ago. He quickly looked back at the teen and asked, "What about you?"

"Number 9... but now watch me get the 8. Just WATCH that happen!" Sam joked lightly, moving forward and paying for the 9, backing up back towards the older teen and waiting for him to order something. He looked around the nearly empty fast foods joint, before dry swallowing the pills and making a face for several seconds as the pills inched down his throat. He waited before moving forward, grabbing the dinner and thanking the tattoo/body piercing covered man behind the counter.

Dean followed suit, getting the same thing and then following Sam to a table in the corner of the room near the back door... perfect. They could see everyone, and were close to an exit, just as it should be. That was rule one... always have an exit. John always made sure that they did... now he was doing the same thing. He sighed quietly and shook his head to clear his thoughts. "So, how long you planning on being a run-away?" he asked, then added, "That's not an 8 is it?" with a slight laugh.

Sam peered at the burger for several seconds before cracking up if not just momentarily, "Oh I'm good." he laughed in separated 'ha's', until he ended letting out an sigh like an deflating balloon. He looked at the number 8 order thinking about Dean's first question, tapping two fingers on the table.

He hadn't even thought about it while they had been talking, like he just forgot his problems. "Oh I don't know..." he said through a sigh, shaking his head and looking up at the roof before closing his eyes. "aaauuhh..." he groaned/said, putting a hand to the stitched wound on his side as he leaned back against the seat back. "I... I don't even know where I came from... and I mean, what if my names... Not even Sam?"

Dean cocked his head slightly and shrugged. "You're Sam... definitely Sam. You look like a Sam." he said, sounding pretty sure. "Y' know... people's name fit them... you have to 'fit' your name... dunno... but you definitely 'fit' as Sam." he said, laughing at the fact that Sam had actually gotten an 8, just as he had predicted. "What, are you psychic or something?"

Sam puffed out air and shrugged as Dean said, 'You're Sam... Definitely Sam. You look like a Sam. Y' know... people's name fit them... you have to 'fit' your name... dunno... but you definitely fit as Sam.' "I'll trust you on that." he said with a brief nod, looking around the building before starting to eat the order. "Yeah, I'm totally psychic." he said sarcastically, smiling.

Dean smiled sarcastically thinking, 'I really hope not.' He laughed and said the same thing. "Hope not." he blinked rapidly and then asked, "So, where does this relative of yours live... exactly?" he asked, since he would be driving. He wondered how Sam was supposed to find out anything about his real parents/family when he didn't even know his REAL name.

"In Falcon, near Kansas. And before you ask, I'll call my parents tomorrow, I want to try and find out whatever I can about... me, I guess." Sam said, finishing the burger and fires and waiting for Dean, to either say something or move.

"Mk, yeah... Falcon... been there once." he said, remembering a hunt he and John had taken there. Werewolf, if he remembered correctly, which he did. "Sound like a plan then." He stood up and looked around the cafe again. "Ready?" he asked. He was debating whether they should stay in a motel or go straight to Sam's relatives place. He turned and headed toward the door, glancing back occasionally at Sam.

TIMEWARP: Sam moved into the motel room less than twenty minutes later, tossing his backpack unceremoniously next to the farthest away from the door-bed and climbed in the bed somewhat resembling an zombie, letting out an 'Ummfff' sound as he did so.

Dean walked to the bed nearest the door, and sat quietly on the edge of it. The motel room wasn't bad, all things considered. It had light blue walls, green and blue quilts covered the beds, and the carpeting was a soft sage. There were two beds, obviously, and a refrigerator, as well as a TV and remote. The remote's batteries were held in with duct tape.

Dean sighed and thought, 'Well, things could always be worse, right?' He knew that was true. "Mk, so, we'll head for your... relatives house at 7." he stated, glancing over at Sam, who looked half dead. "How're you feeling?" he asked, his eyes showing genuine concern for the younger teen.

"Mk..." he mumbled through the pillow, whapping and waving one hand out at Dean as his only other response to that. His head was aching, his side was throbbing, and he was still feeling queasy, but the medicine had helped with the pain. "'Mm... think a bomb went off 'nside me." he joked lightly, his voice coming out muffled.

"Pretty freakin' close." he said, remembering the blood everywhere, the realization of 'This kid may die right in front of me.' He shook his head to clear away the memory and then asked, "You took a bullet for that girl... is she... a friend?" he asked, saying 'friend' with a slightly questioning tone as in asking if the girl was a 'more-than-just-friends' kinda friend.

Sam looked away from the pillow and at Dean as he started talking again, blinking rapidly and rolling over slightly enough to face the other teen. He felt heat moving into his face from the question, blushing if not just slightly. "No! We don't talk that much, just, acquaintances..." he corrected, pulling the blanket halfway over himself.

Dean raised both eyebrows with a look that said, 'Oh REALLY?' "Oh? She seemed pretty worried to me..." he laughed at Sam's expression. "Well, if you were 'acquaintances' before, I bet she'd go farther than that now." he teased, still, he thought, 'Yeah, this kid is better than I am by a thousand times. Taking a bullet for someone he barely knows...' he breathed out an amused sigh at the thought.

Sam chucked one of the pillows at Deans head, the red visibly showing in his face. "She's the popular girl, I'm the 'geek'!" he said, as if still trying to 'correct' Dean. He puffed out air in an odd sounding sigh, though smiling slightly. He pinched the bridge of his nose, blinking rapidly up at the roof and occasionally glancing at Dean.

Dean grinned and nodded, "No argument here, Geek boy." he laughed and blocked the pillow, flipping it over and falling back onto it. "Thanks Sam... like this one better anyway." he teased, tossing one of his pillows across the room at the other teen. He shook his head slightly as a thought popped into his mind. 'Shoulda been an older brother... I think I'd be pretty d*** good at it.' his thought was a bit sarcastically, but hey, still was an interesting thought.

"You're a jerk." Sam said with a laugh, his hair fluffing with static as the pillow his head. He pulled the pillow under his head on top of the other, glancing once over at Dean then up at the roof again, a smile pasted to his face.

Dean laughed yet again. "Whatever, Bitch." he replied jokingly. Why was it so easy to talk to this kid? He met him a week ago, then today, he took the kid home, then Sam had decided to run away... and now they were driving... just driving, NOT hunting... which was odd, because... well, he hadn't NOT hunted in so long that he had no idea how to just be... well, normal, but for some reason, being around the 13-year-old made him feel as 'normal' as he could… or at least, as normal as a 17-year-old hunter could feel.

Sam laughed again at Dean's retort, the smile growing on his face as he closed his eyes. He sighed quietly and moved one hand to his side as he rolled over the other way from facing Dean, "G'night D'n." he muttered quietly as the room fell into silence, well, minus the exception of the creaking of beds.

Dean sighed quietly and replied in turn, "G'night, Sam." It was odd. He was so used to John being there, and the two of them just pretty much ignoring eachother once they reached the motel room. SO, talking was different... not bad different. He half kicked/pushed his shoes off, and then pulled the blanket over himself without bothering to get out of his clothes.

Next morning, Dean was awakened by the usual nightmares… nothing special… just bloody, horrid dreams, that were actually memories… it was a hunter's life, that was how it was. He had blinked the sleep away from his eyes and forced himself to wake up more.

He woke at 6:09 and had been waiting for Sam until about 6:43. "Hey, Sleeping beauty... you ready? Almost seven." he called over to Sam, who ahd still been asleep at the time, or, he assumed he was still asleep. Dean had been ready to leave about 10 minutes ago, and was no only waiting for Sam. They were going to his uncles house... or, well, not REALLY his uncle apparently, since he was adopted... but Dean wasn't judging... Bobby was 'his' uncle... even though he wasn't actually a blood relative... so, when it came down to it, family didn't have to be blood.

Sam groaned groggily, dragging himself off the bed and blinking rapidly as he stared at the fuzzy version of Dean. "Mm... ready..." he said with a brisk nod, pulling his backpack over his shoulder and instantly gasping. He flopped back onto the bed, shakily digging out the pain killers and taking them, forcing them down with some gulps of water from a water bottle in his backpack, before stuffing it back in. "Didn't take it with food, sue me." he muttered aloud more to himself, rubbing a hand over his face and standing again. He walked towards the door, not being able to tell if he was sleep logged or still tired. Probably logged. Normally, he was up till all hours of the night doing homework.

Dean nodded and watched Sam move toward the door. He caught Sam halfway and pried the backpack away from the younger kid. "You probably shouldn't be carrying this." he said, holding the actually VERY heavy backpack. "This thing would be hard to carry on a normal day... what'd you back in here? a parachute, or an inflatable raft?" he asked teasingly, though he guessed it was clothes and books... probably.

"Books, clothes..." Sam replied, trailing off for a second. 'Salt.' every since Pastor Jim had saved the whole Smith's family from a poltergeist, well, he had taken a habit to carrying salt around with him about everywhere. Maybe not pounds and pounds of it, but still.

Sam nodded gratefully to Dean as he pulled the backpack away from him though. Sam began trudging out the door towards the Impala, his fast paced walk quickly disintegrated into a slow Eskimo-in-a-snow-storm speed.

Dean walked beside Sam, who was plodding along slowly. "You really didn't get enough sleep... did you?" he asked. "Or, just TOO much sleep?" he added as an after thought. He knew how getting not enough sleep felt... he rarely slept. 2 hours or so a night as a general rule... sometimes more... but between getting up early and researching hunts REALLY late, then the nightmares... yeah, there wasn't much time for sleep. He managed without it though... as long as he got some, he would live.

"Too much." Sam mumbled in an reply. He waited until Dean had unlocked the passenger side, then got into that side, waiting for Dean. In five seconds, the thought hit him; he wasn't weirded out at all. He was fine. He had JUST met this guy, and he trusted him, and everything just seemed... right. 'Course you trust him, he saved your life, dimwit.'

Dean moved around the Impala and got in, starting the engine and pulling away from the motel. He had checked them out that morning when he woke up, so no problem there. He glanced at Sam, who had just stated that he had slept too much. "Okay, I see..." he said, smiling slightly. Normal people slept too much... that would be nice... being normal. 'Oh well, we're not normal.' he thought, and then had to re-think, 'hunters... aren't normal.' He looked at Sam again. "Okay, so, what did you say this relatives name was... oh, and you were calling your parents." he said, nodding toward the glove compartment again.

Sam pulled out the same silver phone from the glove compartment, flipping it open and dialing Jonathan and Melissa's home phone number... waiting... waiting. "Sam?" Melissa's tired voice came over the line. "Hey mom." he said quietly. "Sam? You're not hurt right? Who are you with? You okay sweetie?" "I'm fine, he's a friend... I uh, do have a question though." "Okay... what question?" "How... how much can you tell me about, well, you know, me?" he asked quietly again. "Sam- Okay... fine... j... we uh, adopted you, from 'Kansas Adoptive services' in Lawrence. They said your name was Sam, you were six and a half months old. That's all I know. I have papers here, but they don't really say much other than that... and I'd have to find them. I don't know where they are." "Okay, no, that's alright... thank you, mom. Kansas, Lawrence adoptive services, thanks again... love you mom." "Bye, Sammy." with that he flipped the phone shut, pushing it back into the glove compartment and closing it after.

Dean tried not to eavesdrop, but the phone conversation was happening less than three feet away... it was impossible not to hear, so he sat quietly and just drove while Sam talked. He was glad that the younger teen didn't tell his parents who he was with, and rather, just said, 'a friend.' He was very glad of that.

Seconds passed and Sam's voice brought him out of his thoughts as he said, 'Kansas, Lawrence.' Dean flinched slightly, his muscles tense as he heard the words. For a moment, and only one, his vision seemed to be clouded with fire... a fire that spread across a room... engulfing everything. He blinked rapidly and it was gone, clear again, nothing but quiet road, small shops and houses for miles. He ran one hand through his hair and breathed out a long, shaky sigh... 'Okay, weird.' he thought.

Sam looked towards Dean, seeing him tensing and flinching slightly. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, his voice lowering even more-so than it had before, looking worriedly at the 17 year old. "Something wrong?" he said again, blinking rapidly and waiting for Dean to speak again.

Dean stayed silent for several seconds until Sam's voice finally clicked in his mind. "Oh... Uh... what?" he asked, having to re-think what Sam had said. "Oh, no... Yeah, I'm okay." he said, shaking his head and frowning slightly. "Just... uh... I think, remembering something... maybe." he said. Could it have been... THE fire? No... no way... he hadn't remembered anything about it in 13 years... NOTHING. How would he possibly start remembering now of all times?

"Um, okay." Sam said, nodding several times. "If you need to talk, just say." he said, smiling briefly then looking out the window at the passing landscape. How long would the drive be? He looked back at Dean once, then back out the window, tempted to break the silence if Dean didn't within several seconds.

Dean nodded slowly. That was odd. John never 'wanted to talk.' So, it wasn't something that Dean had ever done. There was no emotional sharing and caring with his father... then again, he was fine with that... it was how he had grown up. So, he had never known anything else. 'Oh well.' he thought with a shrug, pushing those thoughts away.

He glanced over at Sam, and then started speaking. "Mk, you said, Falcon? That's..." he paused, trying to think of where that was, in reference to where they were right then. "About an hour and a half off... not too far." he said, almost as though he had heard Sam's thoughts. He hadn't of course, but he figured that Sam may want to know.

It was two hours later, they had gotten there just twenty minutes ago or so. Sam paced around the living room, knowing Pastor Jim had just gotten back from the church so he would be out in about ten minutes. He looked at the smooth wooden floors, one tilted up into the dining room, and there were sporadic 'waves' in the flooring. There was a fireplace right next to where Sam was pacing, black fireplace with several framed pictures on the mantle. A carpeted staircase to the right, leading up to the bedroom, and then an hallway to the left, lined with pictures and portraits, whereas, there was a cross that hung above the dining room.

Sam moved towards the brown leather couch, sitting down and leaning forward on his knees, waiting patiently for Jim Murphy to come back out... frankly, he didn't expect Dean to stay for very long. He hadn't promised to help him any further than to, well, Jim's, and they were here.

Dean stood by the door, looking around the house without going much farther into it. He figured that he would leave whenever Sam's uncle showed up again. He was just making sure Sam was gonna be okay.

Frankly though, he didn't know... he didn't know if he wanted to leave. Where would he go? He wanted to go to Kansas... Lawrence to be more specific. He had to get answers. Maybe, if Sam was headed that way anyway... to check into his past, then they could keep traveling together... he could figure some things about the fire... talk to old neighbors perhaps? Fire department records... anything that might help. Dean wanted answers... answers that he wasn't getting from John. It was time to figure this out... whether John would help him or not.

Sam looked up at Dean as he stood by the door, half waving to him awkwardly in the silence before looking back down at his now-clasped hands. "Sam..." he heard the Pastor's voice. Standing up from the couch he gave his adoptive uncle a smile, shaking his relatives hand with both each patting each other's backs. He moved back again and let out a quiet sigh, looking towards Dean with an odd, different emotion expression before he looked back to Jim.

After a moment's silence, the pastor spoke. "Either of you want something to drink?" Jim asked, looking between Dean and Sam. "Not for me, thanks though. Do you uh... know where Kansas Adoptive Services in Lawrence is?" he asked, his voice lowering the farther he went. "Yeah, I could type you up some directions, it's about a... three to four hour drive, give or take." Murphy said, waiting for Sam to speak again. "Thanks... I just... want answers." he said with a shaky huff of air that was supposed to be a sigh. "I'll be praying for y' Sam, you'll see, it'll work out." Jim said before turning around, moving back towards where his computer and printer were, or at least, he figured that's where he was going.

Dean shook his head when the pastor asked if either of them wanted anything. He watched as the man walked out of the room again, heading to, well, if Dean had to guess, he was headed to get the information Sam had asked for. He could get the same information… possibly faster if he called Bobby, but he wasn't gonna bring Bobby in on Sam's personal life. The man could figure out almost ANYTHING... so, if Sam wanted his person life to stay... personal, it would be best not to call Bobby.

Still, he would offer. "Uh, Sam... I've got this... friend." he said, smiling slightly. Bobby was more like his father than his friend... but the grouchy old hunter doubled as both. "He can find ANYTHING... So, if you want information, I can try calling him... only if you want though." he said, shrugging slightly and staying in his position by the door.

Sam glanced toward Dean as he started talking again, about, a friend of his. "Uh..." he said, thinking for several seconds. "Could you... eh, ask him to try and find anything about where I came from, who my parents are... Real family is? If he can find any relatives? Can he do that?" Sam asked, moving back towards the 17 year old and waiting for him to speak again.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, Bobby can find anything." he said, knowing it was pretty much true. The man could find anything from a grizzly in a snow storm, to a windego in the deepest forest on earth. He pulled out his silver flip phone and held it for a moment, looking at Sam, and then nodding one more time.

Dean dialed Bobby's phone, which was set to speed dial, and waited for the grouchy old hunter to answer his phone. "Hullo?" the man's voice came over the receiver. "Hey, Bobby... I've got this friend who needs some information." he began. "What kind... windego, ghost, demon, somethin' else?" Bobby asked. "Yeah, something else... slightly more... normal." he said with a slight smile. "Need you to find out as much about his past as you can... his name's Sam Smith... he lived in Missouri the past... several years, but, originally, he was adopted from Lawrence." he said, stopping and waiting for Bobby to reply. "Lawrence... Kansas?" Bobby asked, his voice low and quiet. "Yes, Kansas." Dean replied. "Kansas adoption center..." Dean added, trying not to think too much about where it was, and about his pretty-much-non-existent-past. "You got it. Dean... what's goin' on?" Bobby asked. "Just helping out a friend... Why? What's up? You okay?" Dean asked. He could hear the tenseness in Bobby's voice as clearly as if he was with the older man. "NOthin's up... I'm gonna make those calls fer ya. Nobody asks me for as much weird stuff as you do, Dean. Look up NORMAL stuff..." Bobby said with a sigh. Dean could hear the clicking of computer keys, and knew that Bobby had gotten right on it. "Thanks Bobby... want me to call back or wait?" he asked, already knowing the answer. "I'll call you. Take care..." he said.

His voice was followed by the sharp click of the phone being hung up from Bobby's end. "Okay..." Dean said, flipping the phone shut and shrugging. "He's looking. He'll call me back."


	5. Chapter 5: Going, going, gone!

**BTW: We won't be posting on Sunday! But We'll try to post on Monday... SO... THANK YOU All for the reviews, f&f's. Here's the next chapter,**

Enjoy :P 

TIMEWARP: The next day, Sam woke up with a slight jolt, looking around Jim Murphy's house and blinking away exhaustion. The sun shone through the windows in the house, the lights were still turned off, unneeded, and from where he was on the couch in the living room, no one else was around. Pastor Jim was probably either still asleep, or maybe at the church... that he didn't know.

He sighed. If he had to guess, he would say that Dean had probably left hours ago. He didn't know, he had thanked him for talking to his friend, dumped his backpack on the floor, and collapsed onto the couch. So, as far as he knew, Dean was gone. I mean, why would he still be there? With that thought, an almost dejected feeling came over him. 'Why would he still be here?' he asked himself, confused at the odd, quite random emotion.

Dean walked in the door just then, glancing around and sweeping the room visually until his eyes finally found Sam, looking a bit disheveled and appearing as though he probably had fallen asleep on the couch that night. Dean had stayed in the Impala overnight. Pastor Jim had offered that he could stay in the house, but he hadn't wanted to. Pastor Jim was SAM'S family... so he felt kind of awkward staying there. He had thanked the pastor, but said that he would rather stay at a motel, so he had driven off to find one. He ended up staying in a motel parking lot and just falling asleep in the car without ever leaving. He was more tired than he had admitted to... he hadn't even known how tired he really was until then... however, that morning, he had driven back to the pastor's house to talk to Sam. "Hey," he called quietly, not knowing if the pastor was still home, and possibly asleep. "I'm driving into Lawrence... just wanted to know if you wanted a ride to the... uh... adoption place?" he asked, standing in the doorway.

Sam looked up in temporary surprise as he heard Dean talking to him again, but in seconds was off the couch, the backpack pulled over his shoulder and him by the door next to Dean. "That would be awesome, I got directions for it..." he blabbered on, looking between Dean and the door, before moving back to one of the tables, writing and leaving a note for Pastor Jim before heading back towards the other teenager

Dean smiled slightly at Sam's fast response to his question. The kid was determined... that was nice. He would probably find his real family in no time with that attitude. Dean could only hope that his real family deserved the kid... Sam was smart, and a 'good person' by human standards, so, the people who gave him up better realize exactly what they lost. Sam was a pretty good kid all-in-all. "MK, lets go then." he said, turning and pulling the door open, then walking out into the cool morning air and heading across the street toward the Impala.

Sam followed out of the house and towards Dean's car, absent mindedly pulling a granola bar out of the backpack and pulling the plastic away from it, starting to eat it though resembling an robot. It was for energy, and really, that was the only reason he was eating anything at all. Reluctantly he continued munching on the granola bar, making a face at the card-board-flavor of it, but saying nothing as they walked across the street towards the black Chevy.

Dean unlocked the passenger door and walked around, getting in his side and glancing at Sam. "You okay?" he asked, blinking slowly a few times. He figured that the kid was definitely getting better, but still, he knew that one shouldn't just shrug off an injury like a bullet wound. He waited for Sam's answer before he even considered turning on the engine.

"Hm? What do you mean?" Sam asked, getting into the passenger side and looking at his brother again. "I'm fine, I guess?" he said with a shrug, before pulling his backpack in front of him, digging through it for the pain killers and water bottle. He forced down the two white pills, before stuffing both the medication bottle and water bottle back into the bag. "n you?" he returned, pushing the backpack to the floor next to his feet.

Dean nodded once then quickly replied, "I'm always good," with a teasing smile. He turned on the car and drove away from Pastor Jim's house, heading down the road. 'Mk, if I recall correctly, he said three or four hours... yes? Yeah, that sounds right.' Dean thought to himself, sighing though. He didn't really want to be in the car that long today... usually, he didn't mind, but today, he just wanted to get to Lawrence... and... check out a few things. There were answers here, he knew it... he just had to find them.

Sam puffed out air in an amused gesture, rolling his eyes somewhat and leaning against the door in the growing habit of slowly increasingly long drives. Three to four hours? Well, it's not bad, comparatively. He stared distantly at the landscape, loosing himself in his own thoughts as he stared at the blurry, quickly passing images...

**BOBBY'S POV**

Bobby hadn't slept all through the night, ever since Dean had called, he'd been up researching. Sam Smith... a kid from Missouri. Apparently, the kid had been shot two weeks and a few days ago. So, that was the kid that Dean had been talking about... hmm.

Bobby had been searching, checking out anything possible, all he could find... and now, he was a bit more than disturbed. The kid had been adopted from Lawrence Kansas... in 1983. The kid was 13 years old... four years younger than Dean. The same age that John's youngest boy WOULD have been.

Bobby yanked off his trucker's cap, ran a hand through his hair, then pulled it back on. He had to get a few MORE answers... from one more person. He dialed John's number, and a scowl settled over his features. Seconds later, John answered. "John..." Bobby began. "Do you know for D**** sure what exactly happened in that fire 13 years ago?" he asked. There was a pause over the phone as John clearly wasn't understanding what Bobby was asking. John finally spoke, saying, 'What are you getting at?' "John, did ya go back in... after? Was there ever any evidence of a second body... other than Mary? I know y' don't wanna talk about this... but look, at this point... you better do it anyway." Bobby grumbled, staring at what he had found on his computer screen. 'WHAT DO YOU MEAN?' John's angry voice bellowed at him. "Don't holler at me, BOY!" Bobby replied with a huff. "I think I found something... John... you don't know for sure that your little Sam died in that fire... do you?" he asked quietly. John was deadly quiet... Bobby could almost imagine him turning white as a sheet as he waited for the other man to answer...

*S&D'S POV*

Dean glanced over at Sam and then sped up slightly, looking back at the road. "I've got one place I... Kinda want to stop by first... then I'll take you to the adoption center." he stated. He wanted to stop by their old house first... maybe he could find something there. He had looked it up last night, and evidently, it was un-owned now. He thought that maybe there was something there that could help him remember something... anything about the fire... his family before all this madness. He sighed quietly and glanced again at Sam.

Sam nodded slowly. "Where? If... you don't mind my asking?" he asked, his voice perfectly calm and steady, waiting for Dean to speak again as he looked at the seventeen-year-old in the drivers seat.

Dean sighed, why should he mind? "Ah, just a..." he paused, tempted to lie, but why bother? There was no good reason that he could think of to lie to Sam, so he didn't. "My old house... before my 'family' started moving around as much." he informed the younger teen. "It's between here and the adoption place... somewhere in the middle." he stated.

"Okay..." Sam replied simply, looking back out the window. He didn't really know another about Dean, other than, he grew up on the road, and apparently his old house was in Kansas somewhere, probably somewhere in Lawrence. That's about all he knew about him. Of course, it was none of his business about Dean's past, it's not like they were related or anything. Just sort of, acquaintances.

His whole life, he had had this... empty, void inside of him. Filled only with what seemed like fake smiles and ignorance... ignorance is bliss. But he didn't notice it. No, because that felt normal to him... but it didn't feel right. But now, he noticed, no matter how deep the thought was buried; he knew.

Dean nodded once and just kept driving, knowing that they would get there when they got there. He was used to long drives. He and John had spent the better part of 13 years on the road so it was no wonder he could manage being in a car so long without being 'driven crazy.' 'Oh, good pun...' he thought sarcastically to himself. He actually smiled at his joke, and shook his head slightly.

"If you don't mind me asking... why'd you start moving around as much as you say? Why didn't you stay at your old house?" Sam chimed in after a moment's silence, his words picked carefully, yet a curious tone surrounded them.

Dean grimaced slightly, frowning at the question. He didn't want to answer that, and frankly, he didn't actually KNOW why they had started moving... not REALLY. He knew it was because of what was out there... his father was bent on revenge against whatever had killed Mary... he knew that... but, he had no idea what exactly happened that night. He knew that there was a fire, that much, was clear. He still had scars from that fire... the one he seemed destined to never remember. No matter how hard he tried, it wouldn't come, and it seemed that the harder he tried, the farther away the memories slipped.

After the long pause, he finally answered. "There was a fire." Dean answered tensely. "Mom died." he added a bit more quietly. Both things were true, but he wasn't adding the bit about, 'and we found out there were monsters, so Dad decided that we needed to hunt them down and kill every one in our path.'

"Oh, I'm sorry-" Sam said quickly, stopping himself before he fell into the whole 'I had no idea' routine. That was so typical that NO ONE could believe it anymore, or at least, not the original meaning for it. He bit his lip, staring out the windshield for a moment before looking back at Dean, clenching his hands together. "If you ever need to talk to someone, my offer still stands."

Dean breathed out a sigh that came out as a sarcastic-almost-laugh. "Yeah, thanks... but no thanks." he said, sticking with his previous response. He didn't talk about his feelings, not with anyone... people he knew, or strangers. Sam didn't really feel like a stranger anymore, but none-the-less, he was, and so, no, there would be no discussion of 'feelings.'

Sam nodded slowly, shrugging, offering a sympathetic smile before looking away from the other young man in the driver's seat, looking back out the window. Talking was just stirring all his temporarily hidden questions and emotions... who was his family? Why'd they give him up? Why didn't they want him... or was it a 'can't afford' situation. Or did his biological dad not want him... and biological mom decided giving him up for adoption was better than abortion?


	6. Chapter 6: Remember

**What's up people!? So, here's the next chapter, after the short one day break... and I'm sorry to say this, but we are going to take probably a week long hiatus! Our editor demanded an manuscript by the 11th. But here is this: and SPOLIER: They will probably find out in the next chapter! So, please be patient with us! So much to do, so little time! Enjoy: (Side note, there is some remembering in this chapter!:D)**

Dean drove the Impala slowly through the small Lawrence neighborhood, looking at each house as he passed it. He knew that the house near the end of the street was empty, he knew that he needed to be there, to SEE the house he had lived in for four years of his life. There had to be something there that would trigger a memory... there must be. That was what he kept telling himself.

Dean glanced over at Sam, who had been pretty quiet, with the exception of the occasional conversation between the two of them, but now, the Impala was in silence, or mostly. The radio was still playing quietly. He finally reached the house and looked over at it. Two stories, just like he remembered. There was a tall, dark, leafless tree in the front yard. He recognized it instantly.

Dean let out a sigh and turned off the radio. He parked the Impala across the street and stared out at the house that was once his family's home. "It's been 13 years since I've seen it." he said quietly. The fire damage had been repaired, probably YEARS ago, and there was a Realtor's sign in front of it, so that just compounded the fact that it was not being lived in. He knew that he would need to get in. He also knew that he could manage easily enough.

Sam looked up at Dean as he spoke again, and nodded wordlessly, glancing at the house from the elder of the two teenagers. It was a somewhat simple, two story house, with a large, burned, gnarly looking tree next to it. He nodded yet again and swallowed hard, feeling some foreign nervousness as he stared at the house and the tree.

Sam looked away out his own window, shivering slightly from the cold and putting a hand to his forehead, his brow furrowing at the heat coming off of him. He pulled out the pain killers from his bag, dry swallowing two of the pills before leaning his head against the window again, waiting for the pain to pass like it always did with the pain killers.

Dean's eyes narrowed as he looked at Sam. He frowned thoughtfully, but said nothing. So far, Sam had been doing alright. He nodded once, considering asking if Sam was alright. He decided against it for the time being. He pushed open his door and got out of the Impala, looking back in and saying, "Y' can come if you want." No reason why not. Of course, Sam might not feel up to it... if not, that was fine with him too.

Dean closed the door and leaned back against the hot surface of his classic black car. This was his home... the Impala. It was where he had lived, the only constant that he had. There was Bobby's house as well, but what he was staring at now... was a shell; something that he hoped would contain bits of his life... things that he knew he should remember, but could never quite reach.

Now, as Dean looked at a place that he once called home, he was wavering somewhere between dread and excitement. 'Now, if I could just make myself move forward... that would be awesome.' he thought, sighing loudly again, and then pushing away from the Impala. He moved toward the house across the street.

Sam hesitated for a moment before sluggishly hopping out of the car, closing the door and slowly jogging to catch up with Dean, one hand on his side as he moved. He slowed down next to the other teen, looking at the house once again as they both stepped off the road onto the concrete. He looked at the Realtor's sign as it swung with every burst of wind, swinging on the hangman's noose shaped pole. He looked back ahead, continuing walking.

Dean glanced sideways at Sam, secretly glad that the kid had decided to come. For some reason, the idea of walking into that house alone sent chills through him... and that was a feeling he did not like, at all. He wasn't afraid of werewolves, shifters, skin-walkers, windegos, nothing like that... but for some reason, whatever it was about this house, he didn't like it. Maybe it was because Mary had died there. Just because he didn't remember the details didn't mean that he was unaware of what had happened.

He swallowed back any emotional what-ever-it-was that wouldn't let him go into the house, and then continued forward, finally reaching the door. He pulled out his lock-picking kit, and quickly got the door open. He held it open for Sam, and then closed it after them. Didn't want anyone to see them here.

"Uh, Dean?" Sam asked questioningly as he picked the lock, though, he walked inside anyways, turning briefly to face Dean before looking around. "Never mind..." he said quietly, shaking his head and looking around. He did remember what Dean had told him on the drive, about where they were going, which, was here, Dean's old home before his dad and he started moving around all the time. Sam hesitantly walked forward again, silently stepping over the blueish rug, which looked like some Realtor or someone like that had just dropped it off there in the small hallway to make it look less daunting, almost like you could smell suppressed memories... memories in the walls, in the air, in the flooring… Of some, past event.

Dean glanced at Sam, who had been speaking, but then stopped with 'never mind.' Dean walked forward slowly, suppressing the need to pull out his gun and clear rooms as though something was waiting for them. He shook his head to clear away those thoughts and walked beside Sam, taking in every in of the walls, the floor, the rooms they passed, the stairs...

The older teen drifted toward the stairs, remembering that his father had told him that he had been upstairs when the fire had occurred. 'Okay then... to the stairs.' he thought to himself. He moved toward them, finally reaching them and then climbing upward. So far, nothing... he held onto the hope that something would come back to him... it had to. He recognized the house in general, but... nothing was coming back... nothing about the fire, or a few months before it... nothing, just vague memories of the three and a half years previous.

Sam followed Dean up the stairs, glancing at the wall to his right then to his left off of the stairs, seeing the living room and the old scratch marks of where an couch used to be positioned in front of where he assumed their TV had been. "So, what are we here for?" he asked quietly, still following up the freshly furnished steps. He felt the anxiety pick up inside of him, like there was something so eerily familiar about this place. But, he knew there wasn't. There couldn't have been.

Dean glanced back at Sam for a moment and shrugged. "Just... y' know... old memories." he said with what he had hoped was a convincing smile. That was truly why they were here... for memories, but not the ones he remember, instead, the ones he DIDN'T remember.

The 17-year-old looked forward, both ways in the upstairs hall and moved forward, not knowing where to start. Dean turned slowly and headed for a random room. He blinked rapidly, knowing that there was a chance that nothing would come back. He sighed, and moved on, heading into the room. He stopped and leaned against the door frame, staring in at a room he didn't remember. What was it? Why didn't he remember it well? He looked in at the plain crème walls. The room was not that impressive... it was a relatively small room, with one door and one window, there was a closet at the far end. Seconds later, he leaned hard against the door and groaned, his mind being hit with what felt like a train... memories flashed in his mind at a hundred miles an hour.

_Dean was in the room, but it was a long time ago... not now. He looked around at the crème walls, and then glanced around again. There was something in the corner... a crib? Yes? Maybe? Dean turned and looked at the door. John and Mary were standing in it, looking at him, both of them smiling down at him. "You think it's ready, Dean?" Mary asked, smiling at her son. "Yeah!" Dean exclaimed happily. "When will he be here?" three year old Dean had asked in his tiny, young voice as he darted toward his parents. Mary smiled and looked at John..._

Then the memory changed... twisting into a different memory.

_The house was dark... but Dean could hear something. He swung his feet over the edge of his bed and moved tiredly through the halls... something was wrong. Dean walked downstairs. He swallowed back a fear that was beginning to grow inside of him. He looked through the house, walking from room to room... there was no one in his parent's bedrooms... that thought scared him._

_Seconds later, he heard his father yelling Mary's name, and then there was a loud roar... like... like what? Fire. He moved forward, darting back up the stairs, panic now filling his thoughts. 'Gotta get to the nursery... need to get him out.' he thought desperately. He didn't even know what was happening, but there was something going on. He ran as fast as a four year old could manage to do, and finally reached the room... he could hear crying... crying? Yes... a baby... He darted into the room and looked up._

_In that moment, that single moment, it destroyed his childhood forever... Mary was pinned to the ceiling, bloody and burning, her eyes were open and she was staring down lifelessly, she was gone. The next moment, John had rushed toward him, shoving something at him... the baby, wrapped tightly in a blanket. "Take your brother outside, Now Dean! GO!"_

Dean gasped, pushing away from the wall and running both hands through his hair. What was that? No, he KNEW what that was... he was remembering. 'What? Brother? I had a brother... and Dad didn't BOTHER to tell me..? What the... w...' Dean's thoughts were now running rampant through his head like a lightening storm... he had just watched his mother die... again... pinned to the ceiling, bleeding... and... and... on top of that, he found out that, he had a baby brother... and all this time, John had never told him... 13 years. Where was his brother? What was his name? How old would he be exactly at this point?

Sam bolted forward as Dean suddenly groaned, leaning against the door with his hazel eyes closed until seconds later, he gasped, pushing away from the wall and running his hands through his hair.

"Hey, hey, hey Dean what happened?" the thirteen year old blurted, having his hand's on both of Dean's shoulders. "Dean?" he repeated quickly, searching Dean's eyes for something to tell him what had happened. Blue-y green eyes were wide with concern, still waiting for the seventeen-year-old to say or do something in reply. What happened?

Dean stared back into Sam's eyes, with his own wide green-hazel eyes. He swallowed hard and then shook his head, taking a deep breath and looking past Sam at the room again, but not bothering to pull away from Sam. "Just... remembered something, that I hadn't... remembered before." he said, forcing any emotion out of his voice.

Why hadn't John told him? What happened to his little brother? Was... was he alive? Or... did he die in the fire? A thought struck him, and it hurt. 'If my brother died in the fire... then, that would mean it was MY FAULT... Dad told me to get him out!' The thought hit him like a bullet, but hurt more than one... he hoped for all he was worth that had NOT been the case... 'Please... anything else… Please not that…' he thought desperately.

Sam nodded slowly, then vigorously, still watching Dean even as he retracted his hands, stuffing them into his brown hoodie pockets, his eyes flickering back and forth across the elder teens face. "You okay?" he asked quietly, thinking, 'stupid question, good going, Sam' accusingly in his mind, frowning with distaste at his own choice of words. "Yeah, sorry." he said, apologized, though still looked as if he was waiting for some kind of reply to his first question, though, it hadn't been worded exactly the best way. Still…

Dean nodded in reply, waiting until he was sure that his voice would hold before speaking. "Yeah, I'm... fine..." he muttered. He had to talk to John. He needed answers; ones that John had kept from him... like the fact that he had A BROTHER. He didn't want to talk about it over the phone though... not something this serious. Dean needed to meet up with John. He needed to make a few phone calls of course, maybe Bobby knew something? He hoped so. 'Why the h*ll didn't you tell me Dad? I deserved to know...' he thought.

Dean blinked rapidly and stood away from the wall, looking at Sam and then forcing himself to get back to the task at hand. He promised this kid that he would take him to the adoption center, nothing had changed about that. He was still gonna help this kid find his family. In fact, now more than ever, because he felt like he could identify with the kid... not knowing something about your past that was important... something that you SHOULD know, but you don't... so yeah, he was gonna help Sam find his family. "You ready to go?" he asked quietly.

Um, yeah." Sam said, shaking his head as if trying to fully pull his mind from his thoughts. He looked both ways before slowly turning and making his way back down the stairs yet again, still giving Dean an occasional, worried glance, though trying to as subtly as he could. He opened the door for both of them, closing it behind and taking in the fresh air surrounding the house, listening to the calming breeze against the house and swinging sign.

Dean re-locked the door and headed across the street toward the Impala. Yes, he did notice the occasional glance from Sam. "Dude, I'm okay." he said, giving Sam a look that read, 'Really, don't worry about me.' He, of course, was not REALLY okay... he was completely confused, and feeling more than a little bit betrayed by John. 'He should have told me.' Dean thought, again. But still, he wasn't going to talk about his feelings... not before, not now.

Dean unlocked the Impala and got in, reaching to the other side and unlocking/opening Sam's door. "Mk... the place is a few miles from here... should only be about 20 minutes." he said, starting the car and waiting for Sam to get in.

Sam smiled slightly, shrugging, getting into the passenger side and not saying anything on Dean's abrupt subject change. "Okay... 20 minutes." 'Now it's time for me to find something out about MY past.' he thought, feeling a little more than unnerved at the thought. All the thoughts, guesses and ideas his brain had tossed back and forth within itself... and now, God willing, he would actually know what was the truth. He took a deep breath, as if trying to emotionally and mentally ready himself for anything.

Dean pulled away from the curb and got back onto the main road, then headed in the direction that he knew the adoption center was in. He occasionally looked over at Sam, who was sitting silently in the passenger seat. It was strange, the feeling that Sam belonged there... in the Impala... so odd. It was like, 'Ah, who knows what it's like...' Dean thought, before looking back at the road again.

"What'd ya think you'll find out? What do you WANT to find?" Dean asked the 13-year-old beside him, mostly just to break the silence, and keep his mind AWAY from thoughts of his own past that were threatening to pull him down.

"I don't know..." Sam replied, a small, distant smile twitching on his face. "I bet Mom's beautiful... and Dad, he's probably brave, strong, heroic." Sam mused, looking down at his hands, closing his eyes and shaking his head, pinching the bridge of his nose before pressing his fingers against his closed eyes. 'Great. Good going, Cinderella.' he thought to himself sarcastically, although, at this point, he didn't care what anyone thought of his 'fantasy parents'.

Dean looked at Sam, a smirk crossing his face for a moment. "Okay, Princess." He laughed slightly, and then let his voice return to its serious state. "But really, I hope they are." he said, looking at Sam with a REAL smile now, rather than a sarcastic, teasing smirk. He wanted Sam to have a good life. Just because it was too late for him, didn't mean that it was too late for the younger teen.

Sam puffed out air and rolled his eyes, glancing at Dean with an irritated expression, although, a chuckled escaped him despite. "Thanks man." he said to Dean's last 'but really, I hope they are' comment. He looked out the window for several seconds, watching the quickly passing landscaping... they were about 10 minutes out now, well, around, it he had to guess. He looked back once to Dean, then again restlessly looked out the window.

Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot of the Lawrence adoption center and looked over at Sam. "Here goes nothing, right?" he asked. "At least you don't have to break into your place." he added with a mischievous laugh after his statement.

He nodded once to Sam and then said. "I'm staying here... y' know... so you've got a ride to wherever. I'll take you where you need to go... wherever that is… I'll drop you off. After, I've got some stuff to deal with." he said, waiting for Sam to say something.

"Um, okay, well, thanks for everything, Dean." Sam replied with a smile, pushing away the confusing disappointment at the thought of them parting ways. 'This was always going to happen.' he told himself, and nodded mentally, getting out of the Impala and heading towards the large, adoption Center building. He opened the huge, glass doors, crossing the white tiled floor and looking down at his now, lightly shaking hands. Yeah, you could say he was a bit nervous. "Can I help you?" a young woman's voice came from behind a large, white desk like place.

"Mhm... just wondering if I could get some files, on, well, me?" Sam asked with a light shrug and an awkward laugh as he stopped in front of her. "Um... let me check. What's your name? Your adoptive parents name? And birth year." she asked, typing on her computer than looking up at him expectantly. "Sam... adoptive parents are Jonathan and Melissa Smith. 1983." "Okay..." she replied distantly, typing in the info probably then turning to her cabinets, pulling open a drawer and fingering through several files, muttering to herself as she did. "S... s... s... Sam... Smith... -83... S... Ah, here, think this is it." she said with an polite smile, pulling out an thin, blue file and opening it. "You're 13? Birthday was estimated to be around April, or May?" she asked, looking up at him. He nodded slowly, clenching his fists and fidgeting where he stood. "Well then, here you are. I'm sorry it's not much, but, good luck none the less, Sam." she said sweetly, already knowing what he wanted... it was pretty obvious. Who knows how many others had done the same? He took the blue file, giving her one last brisk nod, and thank you, before walking out of the building, not bothering to calm his nerves as he jumped at every sound, gripping the file in an death grip.

'Read it!' his mind shouted at him. He jerkily pulled apart the file, looking at the documented papers inside. Birthday: Unknown. Age: Aprox. 6 months. Eye color: Hazel. Hair color: Chestnut. Gender: Male. Family: unknown. Adoptive parents: Jonathan and Melissa Jonathan Smith.

The only name given for whoever had dropped him off and given them basic info was 'A.Z.Z.L', whatever that meant. But the one thing he was most drawn to: NAME: SAM WINCHESTER.

Slowly opening the car door and closing the file, he sent an weary smile to the elder teen.


	7. Chapter 7: The Time is Now

**Okay, NEVER MIND! Couldn't wait to post the next chapter... stayed up until about 1:00 writing it with Vanilla. So, 'revelation' time!:P Hope it's not a let down! So um, yeah. Here it is! (Back to writing that manuscript, pooey)**

Still in Kansas, Lawrence, just approximately. 5 minutes from a motel that they had passed on their way to the adoption center. It was now around 9:00PM, give or take a few minutes.

Sam had been mostly silent, his mind raking through every detail of the file that he had read. There really hadn't been that much on him. A name, hair color, eye color, on and on... but the name was interesting him most. 'Sam Winchester' had a ring to it, more so than 'Sam Smith'. 'Oi!' he thought to himself and shook his head, not noticeably, for the first time thinking just how ill fitting that was. Just how wrong it seemed. 'Sam Smith.' like some robot. Maybe they were still around, his 'Winchester' family... maybe they were all he hoped. 'Or, maybe they just didn't want you, or, maybe they all died.' his mind shot back retorts. 'Well, hopefully not.' he returned to his mind, rubbing his fingers against his eyelids.

He wanted to find his family, his biological parents. But he still loved his family, the family that took him in, took care of him, the Smith's... but at the same time, he felt this small, barely noticeable, unease. Like, he just didn't fit in their. Almost as though a voice was telling him, 'you're a freak, you don't belong there, you don't belong anywhere.'. He frowned slightly, shifting in the seat and returning to staring out the window, the blue file gripped in his left hand with a death grip.

Dean glanced over at the younger teen, who had been very quiet on the ride back. He could see the motel in the distance, and gave a slight nod. It would do for the night. If Sam wanted to keep going, that would be fine... he'd driven for MUCH longer before, but he didn't know about Sam. "Wanna keep going, or stay for the night?" he asked, looking over at Sam, who was still gripping the file tightly. He wondered what was in it... if Sam had found the answers he had wanted, or if he had found any answer at all, but he didn't feel like it was his business to ask. He didn't really know this kid... not REALLY.

"Um, what?" Sam asked, blinking rapidly and looking to Dean. "Oh, uh, yeah, sure, sounds good. I mean, to stay." he said, clarifying before he looked down at the blue file, opening it halfway and letting his eyes fall on the black letters again. The name looked even better on paper. He almost wanted to just blurt it out, see how it sounded, but, no, he didn't. That would be; weird.

Even if he DID find his family, what would he do? Why would he stay with them, if, they had given him up with some cryptic 'A.Z.Z.L' as the only clue to who they were, besides the last name, which could have been an bluff, and probably had just given him up carelessly? Why would he want to stay with them, if he had a life, a family, good grades at his school... Why would he drop that and go back to whatever family? And besides, if they gave him up for adoption, they probably wouldn't WANT him back. He still had to know. He had to, that was one thing he knew, even if he didn't understand the drive for that knowledge, but it was there.

Dean nodded once and pulled into the motel parking lot. "Mk..." he said, pulling out his wallet and handing Sam a credit card... not quite LEGAL credit card, but hey, money was money. "Ground floor room, two queens. I'll be right behind you... just, have to make a phone call." he said, nodding once and turning off the engine of the Impala. He smiled at Sam for a moment and waited.

**SAM'S POV**

"Okay." Sam answered quietly, grabbing his backpack and collecting his file, hopping out of the Impala and closing the door carefully as he made his way towards the main room. Opening and closing the door, not paying attention to the bell ringing, announcing his entrance, only walking to the front desk. "Ground floor room, two queens." he repeated what Dean had told him, paying for the room then taking the key from the large, gruff man, who seemed very out of place behind the small desk, his shoulders hunched as he looked down at the thirteen-year-old. "Thanks." he said with a smile, moving off towards the room #15. Once he got there, he dumped the backpack onto the bed farthest from the door, noting the blue-y and brown shades in the room, and with disgust the stain on the cream wall to his right. Disturbing, to say the least. He deposited himself next to his backpack, picking up the motels payphone on the desk and dialing in his parent's number.

"Sammy?" Melissa's voice instantly came over the phone with an hopeful tint to it. "T's me." he replied with an smile through the phone, and could hear a grin spread across her face, a muffled, 'IT"S SAM!' as she called to the rest of the household away from the phone. "You're on speaker now." she said, and he could hear the phone being set down on an table. "Tham!" Jake's squeaking voice came through the receiver. "Yup, still me." he said and could hear Jerry and Resetta chuckling quietly on the other end. "Hey bro, how you doin'?" one of the other brothers asked. "I'm good, and, you? Not pestering the neighbor still, are you?" "Hey, HE Started it! He said 'oh, I'll pay you after you're done', and oh, I ain't seeing no money in my paws!" "Yeah, but, fire crackers and 'used' diapers? I mean, really guys? And Victor, don't try and weasel your way out, you're NOT innocent!" "What?!" Jonathan's voice interrupted, gaining a bout of laughter from all of the siblings. "Nothing, forget it, these are not the droids you're looking for! Hey, so, guys I'm sorry but I've gotta go. Meds to take, pizza to order, a friend to converse with." Sam said, smiling even wider as the whole family said the same things in sinc, "Aawww... OKay, bye Sam." "Bye, love you guys." and with an click, the connection was ended. Now, onto ordering pizza.

*DEAN'S POV*

Dean watched Sam walk off, and saw which room he headed to, 'Okay, # 15.' he thought to himself. 'Keeping the motel 8 chain in business since 1983...' he thought with a laugh. That was the year he and John had started travelling... which brought him to his phone call. He dialed John's number. It rang four times then went to voice mail. He growled in irritation and flipped the cell phone shut. He wasn't going to leave a message... not about this.

He re-opened the phone and dialed Bobby's number. This was a different story though, because the old hunter actually answered after a single ring. "Hey, Boy." Bobby said tiredly. "Hey Bobby..." Dean responded, not sure where to start exactly. "I sense a question comin'. You gonna ask, or do I just start guessin'?" Bobby asked. "Yeah... sorry Bobby. I am gonna ask." he said with a slight laugh.

'How am I supposed to BEGIN?' Dean thought. "You know... the stuffI had you look up about that kid? Well, I need you to do something similar for me. Look up some stuff about me... or... our family... Uh... some things from pretty far back actually." Dean started. There was a pause, no response on the other end of the line. "Bobby... did you... do you know... about..." Dean stopped, again there was silence. "Did Dad tell you I had a brother?" Dean asked quietly.

There was a continuation of the silence, but FINALLY Bobby spoke. "Dean, your daddy told me about it... but, he never gave me much... okay, I think this is somethin' you need to talk to HIM about." Bobby said. "Yeah, I know. I just wish he'd answer his freakin' cell." Dean muttered. "Yeah... I was thinkin' the same thing t..." Bobby stopped, as though he was about to say something he shouldn't. "What?" Dean asked. "Nothin', I'll try to get a hold of John for y,' Okay?" Bobby asked. "Yeah... alright." Dean said reluctantly. "So... Uh... Dean, how's that kid? The one you asked me to check up on?" Bobby asked. "He's getting better... still taking the pain meds... also still looking for his family." Dean sighed. "Mk, good... he still with you?" Bobby asked. 'Okay, that's an odd question.' Dean thought. "Yeah, I'm just bringing him with me until we either find his family, or he needs to get back to Missouri." "Okay... Take care, Dean." the old hunter said. "Yeah, you too Bobby." Dean answered, and then heard the click of Bobby's phone.

"Ughhh..." he groaned. He leaned back against the seat of the Impala and sighed loudly. That was pretty useless. Bobby KNEW something... but he wasn't going to talk about it. He wanted John to do the explaining, to actually GIVE him answers that he NEEDED. 'Yeah, when pigs fly.' Dean thought.

He closed his eyes and his mind flashed back to the memory of the house fire... to what his dad had said... 'Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back. Now, Dean, go!' He forced his eyes open and blinked rapidly, wondering, 'Did my brother die in the fire? If so... it's my fault, isn't it?' Dean groaned and pushed open the Impala's door, locking it and then going to the trunk. He pulled out his backpack and headed toward room 15.

**SAM'S POV**

Sam just finished ordering the pizza, using his name, his real name for the first time, and it did sound even better out loud. "Sam Winchester" he had said. He let out a sigh and let the smile slowly creep back onto his face. He was getting somewhere... closer to the truth. Closer to his family. For the first time, he wondered, did he have any siblings? Hmh. Who knows. Hopefully, he would find out sooner rather than later. He dry swallowed some of the pain pills, taking new clothes and moving into the bathroom. After a moment of changing, he left his shirt off, staring at the ugly, rigid, long, burn scars. It always baffled him how he could have gotten those from an candle. What, did it set him on fire, start spreading, and Melissa and Jonathan have to pat it out with a blanket? He smirked slightly at the thought. Who knew. He let out a quiet sigh, checking the stitches before pulling on an white T-shirt and button down, different red shades, plaid shirt, before leaving the room back to the main, motel, living room.

*S&D'S POV*

Dean knocked on the motel door, not knowing if Sam had locked it or not. 'Better have.' Dean thought. Yeah, automatic responses. Have to be safe. Always better safe than sorry. He waited for Sam to unlock the door. He leaned against the frame and sighed quietly. This was not what he had thought he would be doing over the span of the two months his dad had left him for... but hey, it was time.

"Oh yeah, it's already unlocked, figured you were right behind me." Sam called, glancing at the door and thinking, 'that better be Dean, or that just got really awkward'. He flopped onto the mini couch, staring at the black screen of the small, bulky TV and puffing out air in an sigh, holding his hand to the stitches as he coughed, just like the doctors had all suggested, taking every measure to make sure that he didn't tear or rip them. The young teen pulled one leg onto the couch, leaning his left elbow against that knee and his head against the palm of his hand.

Dean glared at the door after Sam's response. He pushed the door open then locked it instantly. "Always lock the doors, Sammy." he said, turning back toward Sam and shooting him a slight smirk. "You never know what wacko you might end up with if you don't." he teased.

Dean instantly set his backpack by the door and glanced back at Sam. He pulled the salt from his backpack and lined the door. Generally, he had done this AFTER Sam went to sleep... but hey, why wait? Sam hadn't asked him any questions about anything... the multiple burner phones... the credit card with the wacky name... nothing, so, maybe Sam wouldn't be wacked out by his salting-of-the-doors-and-windows either.

Sam looked up with an un-amused expression, rolling his eyes, "It's Sam." he said flatly, although, oddly enough, he didn't mind it when Dean called him 'Sammy'. He watched with an unconcerned look as Dean started lining the door with salt, though, instantly his mind switched onto another mode... like an switch inside his brain, 'oh'. "You're an hunter?" he asked quietly, thinking, 'if he isn't, you're gonna sound loony. A deer hunter lining the doors and windows with salt… Yeah sure, buddy.'

It was now Dean's turn to be surprised. He turned and looked at Sam with slightly wide eyes. At first he said nothing. He already knew that Sam was not anything supernatural. He had spiked the kid's water with holy water, and obviously, the salt didn't bug him... silver hadn't either. Dean had done all the tests in a not-so-noticeable way... so he knew Sam was human, he just hadn't known that Sam knew about hunting.

After the long pause, he finally answered. "Uh... Yeah." he stated a bit lamely. "How'd you find out about hunting?" he asked, his eyes narrowing a bit. He wished that the kid didn't know about monsters, things like that... but apparently, he DID know about them. 'Oh well…' he thought. Dean sighed quietly, pushing the thought away and standing up after finishing the salt line at the door.

"Some, poltergeist was after me and my family... My Uncle's kinda like an un- official hunter of sorts, so he was just dropping by, saw what was going on, saved our back-ends, called another hunter buddy, 'ganked' the ghost." Sam explained, the shortest explanation he had probably ever given. He leaned back against the couch, looking up at Dean and moving into an regular-like sitting position. "So... yup. I don't even remember what was up with the thing. Think it was attached to a vase Mom bought. A vase. Yeah, that was it."

Dean nodded. "Yup... sounds about right. Bet your mom doesn't buy used vases anymore?" he asked with a grin as he sat down in a chair across from Sam. He crossed his arms and leaned back slightly, only having just done so, when there was a knock on the door. He flinched and instinctively went for his gun, but noticed Sam's not-so-concerned expression, and decided to forgo the shoot-first-ask-questions-later principle, just this once. He stood and crossed the room, waiting for a moment by the door. He turned to Sam, mouthing the words, 'Who is it?'

"Oh, pizza man!" Sam replied, slapping his knees and smiling back to the other teen. He had had an morbid curiosity in the past, always wondering, if there were ghosts, what else was out there? How many monsters crawled out from underneath whatever rocks they came from? What all was out there? That, he didn't know. And he didn't know, if he WANTED to know. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, waiting for Dean to open the door and get the pizza, while he dug through his pockets for any spare cash that he might have had.

Dean shook his head thinking, 'If I ORDERED pizza, and TOLD someone where our motel room was, Dad would kill me.' He smiled slightly and pulled open the door, coming face to face with a kid, probably about his age, and obviously just what Sam had said... pizza guy.

What happened after that pretty much shocked Dean. "Uh... delivery for, Sam... Winchester?" the teen asked, checking the name of the person who had ordered the pizza. Dean's eyes widened and he stood there in the doorway, looking back at Sam, then the guy again. 'Did he just say, Winchester? As in, Winchester, my last name?' he thought. 'No, come on… LOADS of people have that name…' he added, trying to convince himself that what he had just thought was impossible.

At that point, the guy was getting somewhat confused. "Did... I get the wrong room?" the pizza man asked. "Uh... I... don't... think I..." Dean just stopped talking. He pulled out his wallet, jammed $20 in the kid's hands, took the pizza and closed the door. He set it down on the nearest table and just stared at Sam.

It made sense... all of it was fitting... how had he missed it? Well, other than... of course, that he didn't even KNOW he had a brother until today, when he had started remembering things. But everything fit.

This kid... Sam, had been adopted in '83 by the smiths. The house fire had been in '83. Bobby had asked him if the kid was still with him, and how he was... if this was just some RANDOM kid... why would Bobby have cared? Bobby had been awfully secretive when Dean had called him tonight... then, asking about Sam. The kid's name was Winchester? Was it really? Or had Sam somehow managed to figure out HIS last name, and just chose to use that?

Dean realized he had been staring at Sam, not speaking. 'What am I supposed to say!?' he thought. 'If I say what I'm thinking, he's gonna think I'm nuts, or lying.' He opened his mouth to speak anyway... but instead, just closed it again. He swallowed hard, his thoughts rushing around him like a waterfall. 'What if I just HOPE it's him? I mean, if this kid is my brother... then... then that means he didn't die in the fire... which means that I got him out... why don't I REMEMBER!?' he thought in irritation. He still hadn't spoken a word, and was STILL staring at Sam. "Sam..." he said quietly, again stopping. 'What am I supposed to say?' he thought again.

Sam fidgeted nervously under the teens burning stare, looking down at the ground and then back up at him with large, confused, nervous 'puppy dog eyes'. He saw the shock written on Dean's face, and his own mind was in an buzz of 'what did I do wrong?'. 'Sam...' he heard the guy whisper basically, and could feel his own heart rate pick up inside of his chest, swallowing down hard. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly, finally forcing himself off the couch, once hand gripping his formerly injured side. Any emotion just made the throbbing flair up. And right now, he was confused, at the state of shock the other teenager was in. Seconds earlier, he was teasing and joking and talking about hunting, but now, he was just standing and staring at him. "Did I uh, say something?" he asked, in other words, 'what did I do?'.

Sam felt the stress growing, absent-mindedly scratching at the scar that started at his shoulder, shifting and looking down at the floor, bangs falling in front of his face. He looked up slightly at Dean through his hair.

Dean looked at Sam, still trying to figure out how to ask what he needed to know. He didn't know how he felt about what he thought... but he had to know. "Sam... Winchester?" he asked. Could it be possible? Was there some chance that for ONCE, SOMETHING in his life had gone right? Could that happen, to a Winchester?

Dean glanced quickly around the room, his eyes falling on the blue folder that held Sam's adoption information. The answer he wanted was in that file. He wanted nothing more than to look at it... but at the same time, he didn't want to go near it. His heartbeat sped up, and his eyes darted between the file and Sam. "I never told you, what my last name was... did I?" he asked, laughing slightly, though it came out as a stressed, tense laugh, and the words had been barely audible.

The edgy thirteen-year-old nodded noticeably, watching as Dean looked at the blue folder and continued speaking. "What are you... saying?" he asked quietly, tilting his head if not only just slightly. He could feel himself trembling, like an young animal stuck in an rain storm. Suddenly the thought hit him; the same thought that had been running through Dean's mind, or the same basic idea.

"Wait... you don't mean... I mean... you don't think... you're names not...?" Sam asked tensely, his voice oddly hoarse as he stared wide-eyed at the other, 17-year-old. He didn't mean... they weren't... related, right? Was his name Winchester? 'I mean, there's gotta be a million people with that last name, right?' he thought to himself, tugging at the hem of his shirt, openly agitated with the flood of emotions and confusions.

Dean coughed quietly, and nodded once, moving toward the blue file. Yes, he was going to open it. He pulled it toward himself with one finger, and then flicked it open quickly, as though it was burning hot. He stared down at the name in bold black ink on the page. SAM WINCHESTER. A second later, memories hit him like a train.

_It was the day that Mary had been released from the hospital, and John and Dean had picked her and the baby up. As they made their way to the Impala, Dean's excitement had only grown. When they finally reached the car and got in, Dean was pure energy, feeling like he could have run home faster than the Impala could make it back._

_Mary had sat in the backseat with Dean, in hopes to calm the excited child, while John drove. Dean had eventually calmed down, and finally, Mary let him hold his little brother, tiny, only about 8 pounds. "His name is Sam... Sam Winchester." she said with a bright smile. "Sammy..." Dean said, looking at the baby in his arms. "I'm gonna look out for you, Sammy." he whispered to the baby. Sam's blue-green eyes had looked up at him and then fluttered closed, the baby's breath evening out in a peaceful sleep. Mary smiled. She knew from that moment that Sam was 'Dean's', not her's, or John's, and that was alright with her. She had known that Dean would always protect his brother, always._

Dean breathed in sharply, closing the blue folder and looking across the room at Sam. "1983 was the year our house burned down..." he said quietly. "I got hurt in the fire... and... I forgot... pretty much half my life... the last thing I remembered... I... I had a brother. Sam, I think... you're my brother... 'my' Sam." he said quietly, feeling completely shocked at that point. "My name is Dean Winchester..."

"Holy..." Sam said in an hushed voice, running an hand through his unruly, fluffy hair, still quaking and now feeling hot, then cold, freezing then burning. He took several steps forward towards Dean, searching the older teen's expression desperately for something, before letting out an choked, 'huh' sounding 'laugh'. Now that he thought back on it, it sounded more like a sob. But at this point in time, he couldn't care less what it sounded like, he couldn't care what people thought of him, no. He found his family... So, there were a lot of gaps. A lot of missing family members un-accounted for. But it didn't matter... for the first time, things just felt, right. Like a puzzle finally starting to come together.

Sam moved forward finally, the quickly growing, bony teen pulling Dean into an trembling hug, taking in the same, gradually-getting-to-be-familiar smell of gunpowder and leather from the brown jacket, and for once in his life: he felt safe. Truly, truly safe.

Dean flinched slightly, not remembering the last time this had happened, if ever. Without even thinking, his strong, muscled arms moved around Sam and he breathed out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Sammy." he said quietly, just to say it. He let his head move forward, resting on top of Sam's. He had found his brother, and for the first time in 13 years, he knew what he had been missing all this time... he knew what the hole in his life had been, and why it hurt so bad sometimes, not knowing... all of that was just... gone.

"Dad never told me..." he said quietly, more as an after thought. Why John hadn't told him, he didn't know... and how Sam had gotten out of the fire, that he didn't know either, but he was glad that Sam was here now. Again, his mind wondered, how/why Sam had been put of for adoption. If Dean had been able, if he could only remember... he would never have let that happen. "Sam... If I had known... I wouldn't have let anyone take you... I would've found you." he said quietly.

"You let me endure tofu burgers and salad pizzas!" Sam tried to joke, ending up the same place he started, his voice lame and numb sounding, broken yet comforted, and the most, confused. "I-I know you would have... I don't... don't know how... but... I know..." he choked out, closing his green eyes and biting the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his emotions at bay, and miserably failing. Why hadn't their Dad told Dean? Why... what happened...? why did he just drop him off at the adoptive center in Lawrence, why...

He felt a hot tear escape his eye, connecting and running down Dean's neck. He didn't want to move, he didn't want to leave, he didn't want to face the facts, like why he'd been ditched, or why John hadn't told Dean... no, he just wanted to stay, with his brother, right then, right there.

Dean laughed slightly at Sam's crack about the hardships of tofu and salad pizzas. He knew why Sam knew... he also knew why Sam didn't understand HOW he knew. "Because, when you were younger, I always told you that I'd watch out for you..." he answered Sam's unasked question.

He wanted to call John, get some answers... but at the same time... his mind was toying with another idea... Sam was his brother, John had never bothered telling him about Sam... maybe he wouldn't bother telling John that he had found his brother, and instead, he and Sam could actually have a real life? 'Hunters don't get 'normal' lives.' John's voice rang in his head. 'Well, maybe I'm not a hunter anymore...' Dean thought. If he had to choose one... his brother, or tracking what had killed his mother, he would choose Sam... because, though he wanted to kill what had taken Mary... he knew that it would not bring her back... but Sam was HERE... ALIVE... and he wasn't going to let anything happen to him.

He pulled away from Sam slightly, looking into Sam's blue-green eyes... the same eyes he had always had... he recognized them now. 'How the heck did I ever FORGET?' he wondered, but couldn't come up with any logical answer.

Sam ran a hand over his face, looking back up at Dean's hazel eyes as he stared into his own, Dean's words still echoing in his mind. 'because, when you were younger, I always told you that i'd watch out for you...'. A smile twitched on his face and leaned his head against Dean's shoulder again for several seconds, taking an deep breath before moving away yet again. "I... I really... don't know... what to say."

Dean nodded, and choked out his next sentence. "I don't either..." he backed up a few steps and sat down on one of the beds, the one nearest the door. It creaked and groaned, but at this point, he couldn't bring himself to care about that. Suddenly, another thought hit him... a different kind of thought. Two weeks plus a few days ago... someone had shot his little brother... Sam had almost been killed. His eyes widened at the thought, and he was beginning to think of a way to get at the man. 'I'll put a bullet through that guy's skull...' he thought. 'Ah, not now...' he told himself, again back to 'reality.' He ran one hand through his hair and looked at Sam with a slight smile. "Thirteen freakin' years, and we manage to find eachother by accident, without even looking..." he said, shaking his head and laughing slightly at that.

"Yeah, and at a school shooting, no less." Sam added, breaking out into an smile and an dry laugh, shaking his head slightly, still looking stunned, dazed, and feelinglightheaded from all the revelations and emotions that had been around the whole day. He stared at Dean distantly for several moments, an expression of security and peace showing on his face until he shook his head, speaking up again.

"Hey Dean...?" he croaked out in an small voice, before he broke out laughing in odd sounding spurts, still choked with emotions, "You up for that pizza now?"


	8. Chapter 8: Once Again

**Disclaimer: Don't own SPN, or Sam, or Dean, obviously... *Duh.* SO, here is chapter, well, is another chapter. XD Yippee!  
**

6:00 AM, May 7th, Lawrence Kansas.

It looked to be about mid-day, afternoon sometime. A cabin, surrounded in every direction by harsh terrain and bulky pine trees. Quiet breathing and nearly completely silent footsteps, lighter fluid halfway sticking out of the man's pocket, an lighter in the other pocket, and an shotgun in his hands. There was another man, dark plaid shirt, blue jeans, tan boots, shovel in hand.

The salt-and-pepper haired man nodded towards a small, crooked cross, and instantly the other started digging, tossing the dirt next to the grave. Then it blurred, everything blurred, almost as if someone had skipped a part on a tape farther along, and then there was a sickening, nauseating yowl, followed by an even more sickening noise, a thud, and then a crack of another bone and again, a crunching of a different one. Less than a second passed and a rigid cry of pain sounded through the air, along with the other man's voice, "JOHN!"

Sam sat up on the bed, his chest heaving, hair sticking to his sweating forehead. He shakily ran a hand over his face and gasped quietly, closing his blue (for the time being) eyes. What the heck kind of dream was that? He hadn't gotten a clear view of either of the men, or what had been chasing them, or really anything. He swallowed in rapid succession against his dry throat, trying to catch his breath from the dream.

Dean had already been awake, really hadn't slept more than two hours that night... or really any night. He had been standing by the window, staring out at the parking lot, which, in his opinion, was not a great view.

Dean heard Sam wake up rather unceremoniously, and turned. Sam looked awful. "Hey, what's up? You okay?" he asked, his voice full of worry. He moved through the room and sat on the bed opposite his younger brother. In the two and a half weeks that he had known Sam, that had never happened before... so, yeah, he was a little concerned.

"Uh," Sam mumbled in reply as an only answer for the time being, until finally catching his breath. "Noth-nothing... weird dream..." he explained quietly, shaking his head and finally turning to look at his brother, who was sitting on the other bed. "Did you get, any, sleep?" he said through a deep breath to calm himself, trying to get the subject and attention off of himself.

Dean frowned slightly at Sam's less-than-satisfactory response, but didn't push it. "Yeah... a little." he answered nonchalantly. Everything that had occurred the previous night was still rushing through his mind. He wasn't entirely sure it had all been real. Of course, he knew that it was... but still, it was like it had all been some dream.

He had attempted to call John that night, but so far... had not been able. His... Their father hadn't been answering, and the phone was going to voice mail... shocker.

Sam pushed himself into an sitting position, nodding slowly to Dean's reply. "Hey... uh, when was I born? They estimated 83', somewhere in April-ish." he said/asked, meeting Dean's gaze. It was still surreal; really, he met his biological older brother at a school shooting, and only stayed with him because he wanted to find out more about his real family. Well, in some ways, the Smith's were his 'real family'. He didn't think... oh, well that did bring on another question. "Where's your, uh, dad?"

Dean smiled slightly at the question... this was one he didn't mind answering. "May 2nd, '83." he answered without having to give it much thought... it was as easy to remember as his own name... why? Well, because it was the day his brother was born... how could he forget that?

The next question Sam asked was not as easy. "He's off... somewhere... I dunno... he dropped me off here and left. Said he'd be back in two months... we could probably track him down, but it wouldn't be easy." he answered, then pulled his silver flip phone from his jacket and shrugged. "I've called him like, 5 times... he hasn't answered yet." he said with an exasperated look at the phone, as though it was somehow to blame, though he knew better.

"Okay..." Sam said in reply to Dean's answers, things that Dean had said in the past few days kept coming back to him... their mom died in an fire... he was an hunter... they moved around a lot because of the fire, never settled down, probably because of hunting... why'd they start hunting after the fire? Was it caused by some supernatural creature? Dean didn't know that John had given him up... why didn't he tell him? Why did he do it? Did he do it? Dean's life had been tainted by hunting because of some revenge trip? Sam shook his head, pushing away the deductions going on inside his mind. "What happened... after the fire?"

Dean sighed and shook his head slowly. "That depends... RIGHT after, or days after? 'Cause I have no idea what happened right after." he said, shrugging and looking away from Sam for a moment, regaining control over his emotions, and then turning back.

He knew he had to give a better answer than that. "I woke up in a hospital, and as soon as I was well enough to be released, Dad hauled me to my uncles house... well, he's actually not REALLY an uncle, but... he's as close as I've got." he said. "Bobby Singer..." he added the name, knowing that Sam wouldn't know it. "I stayed there with him for a while until Dad came back, then he started the training... I learned to hunt, and never looked back, I guess." he said in answer.

"Oh..." Sam said simply, staring distantly for several seconds before coming back to the land of the living. "Why? Why did he do that? Why the h*** would you do that to a kid?" he hissed angrily, leaning back slightly and letting out an almost growl sound, shaking his head in distaste.

How old would Dean have been when their... his dad had started teaching him to hunt? What, five? From what Sam had gathered, hunting was about the most dangerous 'occupation' out there. "'scuse." the thirteen-year-old muttered after the curse, thinking how if he had said something like that around his family, he wouldn't live to see another morning.

Dean looked at Sam with a concerned, slightly agitated expression. 'Great, Sam and Dad hadn't even met yet and already Sam wants to fight?' Dean thought desperately. "Sam... Let it go. It doesn't matter. I went along with it... never asked to stop." he defended John, because that's what he did... he defended the man. John was their father, and despite all his failings, at least he had kept Dean safe... most of the time.

He defended John, he was loyal to the man, but he actually CARED about Sam. He got the feeling that he was now trapped between a rock and a hard place, so to speak. His loyalty to his father, and his will to protect his brother seemed to be colliding, and running in opposite directions, both willing him to do one or the other. 'Already?' he thought in slight despair.

Sam let out a sigh and grudgingly nodded, "Yeah, okay." he muttered quietly. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do." he whispered quietly, closing his eyes. From what he heard of John, he didn't know if he could live with the man, and besides, he gave him up, so why did he even think there was an chance he'd even want him NOW? 'Not everything revolves around YOU.' his mind said, and he had to nod inwardly. "Sorry Dean." he apologized quickly, huffing out a breath and looking back up at his brother.

Dean nodded once and replied quickly, "It's okay..." He knew that it wasn't exactly 'okay' and that he had to at least try to get his Dad and Brother to get along when they finally met... he didn't know when that would be, as John was still not answering his phone. He was about to say something, when his phone rang.

Dean picked up the cell and looked at the caller ID. He was more than surprised to find John's number there. His eyes widened slightly and he flipped the phone open. "Dad, why haven't you been..." he stopped as his dad began speaking without letting him finish.

"Dean... Hunt... went wrong..." John's voice came over the phone sounding tense. Dean instantly knew that John had been hurt. "Where?" Dean asked, 'hunter mode' activating and his mind began running through everything, such as: How bad his father was hurt, what had he been hunting, did he have backup, and if he was hurt, was he at/did he need to be at a hospital... if so, was there anyone there who could take him.

For the time being, Dean temporarily put aside all his questions and his anger at John for not telling him about Sam. "Oklahoma..." John's voice answered. "WHERE." Dean repeated. 'Oklahoma' wasn't exactly enough for him to find John. "40 miles... outside of Oklahoma city... Blue pine forest... Caleb's here... he's... gonna take me... to..." John stopped, and Dean could tell John was going to be taken to the hospital. That meant whatever had happened was bad... REALLY bad. If John Winchester was going to allow himself to be taken to the hospital, it pretty much meant that he WOULD if he didn't. "Shit" Dean muttered. "We're coming." he said. John's only response was a groan, followed by, "We?" Dean shook his head and answered, "Yeah, We. Ask Caleb what hospital." There was a pause, and John growled, "You don't give the orders, Dean." Dean rolled his eyes and sighed in irritation. "DAD..." he groaned. Seconds later, the phone was silent, and John's voice came over quietly as he answered, "Saint Peter's." Dean nodded. "Okay, got it."

Even while he had been talking to their father, he had been moving across the room and re-packing his backpack, at the same time checking the motel room, under the beds, on the dressers, everywhere, making sure that nothing was left. He looked at Sam, mouthing, 'Get ready, we've gotta go.'

Sam hopped off of the bed, grabbing his black backpack and quickly taking the prescribed pills, waiting for Dean to say what was going on, or, really anything at all. They both moved out of the room, Sam closing the door behind them and giving the key to the main in the main office before going out to meet Dean at the Impala, mouthing to the elder Winchester brother, 'what's going on?'

Dean had already started the car's engine, and was waiting for Sam. Once his brother arrived, he waited until he was in, then pulled out of the parking lot. He was still on the phone with John, but there had been little conversation between them, mostly just a silent link, as if neither wanted to hang up. Dean looked over at Sam, just in time to see him silently asking what was going on. He pulled the phone away and covered the transmitter. "Dad's hurt." he answered, then put the phone back to his ear.

He heard John asking, "How far are... you?" Dean groaned inwardly. He was SUPPOSED to be in Missouri, at school... but he wasn't. "Lawrence." he answered, knowing that he would probably be in trouble for that. "D***IT DEAN, why the h*ll are you in Lawrence!?" John yelled, his voice rising in concern. Dean could hear his father gasp in pain after the outburst. "Dad, calm down… I've got a right to be here." he muttered. "We'll be there in a few hours." he said, glad that Oklahoma was pretty close to where they were... "Tell Caleb to stay until we get there." Dean said. John replied with a grunt, and then hung up the phone.

3 ½ hours later, none-stop driving to Oklahoma, they finally got to Saint Peter's Hospital. Sam wordlessly hopped out of the car, the silence that had filled the Impala really hadn't bothered him in the least. This, was not the way he wanted to meet his real dad... how badly had he been hurt? What had happened? He kind of had gotten the gist that he got injured on a hunt... so how badly was he hurt was the most prominent question in his mind at the moment. He walked into the first part of the building, surrounded by white tile until it broke off into beige carpeting.

What alias was he using? That was the second most important question in Sam's mind.

Dean moved forward, headed toward the main desk. He knew what name his father would be using. He asked the woman behind the desk where they could find a patient named John McEntire. After a few moments, the woman turned back to Dean and pointed down a long hall to an elevator. "Two floors up, room 80." the young woman said, smiling. "Thanks." Dean replied, then turned and walked back toward Sam.

He looked around the hospital, recalling his hate for them. The smell, the gloom that just seemed natural in a place like this... everything about the place, and all others like it, just kinda sucked as far as he was concerned. "Room 80 two floors up." he told Sam, repeating what the woman had told him.

He couldn't believe this... just weeks ago, his little brother had been shot, almost died from that, now his father was injured, and he had no idea how badly. Things just weren't working out so wonderfully.

Sam walked towards the elevator, pushing the button and stepping back, looking distant, thoughtful. How badly was the man injured? Guess they were about to find out... he waited until it opened, stepping inside and keeping it open and still until Dean moved inside, pushing the two floors up remembering which room, room 80. Room 80. Room 80. Room... 'I wonder what he's like...?'

Dean waited, albeit, not so patiently. When the elevator finally stopped, he shoved the doors open and moved forward, glancing back at Sam, and slowing down only for the younger teen's benefit. It was easy for him to forget that Sam was wounded too. He slowed to an easier pace that would be better for Sam, then kept moving forward, looking for room 80. It was near the end of the hall.

They finally reached it, and Dean looked both ways, seeing that no one was intent on stopping them, he pushed the door open and moved into the small room, there was Caleb, sitting in a chair by the bed, and in the bed, John was lying there, pale, and looking weaker than Dean could ever remember the man looking. He swallowed hard and thought, 'This is a crappy family reunion if I ever saw one.' Dean gave Caleb a look that said, 'what happened?'

Sam stepped into the room after Dean, awkwardly standing somewhere next to the wall, glancing occasionally between the three other men in the room, none of them speaking, just silence... 'this is so awkward' he thought to himself, shaking his head un-noticeably, pulling lightly against the hem of the red shirt and shifting, crossing and uncrossing his arms, until finally someone spoke up...

Caleb shot Dean an 'whose he?' expression, looking at Sam, before ignoring him and moving on to the next thing, which would be informing John what happened. Or at least, what the doctors said, he didn't know if he was gonna start talking about hunting in front of the other kid who looked around fourteen-years.

"We were out... hunting, and the rocks were loose, fell down an cliff. Luckily, it wasn't hard enough of an fall to permanently injure your father..." most likely, "He's temporarily paralyzed, they suggested he stay for a few weeks before getting discharged. Looks like he has a lot of physical therapy in his future also, sorry John." Caleb said, adding 'sorry John' to the wounded hunter before turning his attention back to Dean. "The doctors said he can take pain killers, for both his spine and broken arm. But it's not as bad as it could've been, and y'all know just how worse he's been injured before, so, he should be fine. As long as, he doesn't take it to fast." he said, and during the last sentence sent John an warning glance, as in, 'you better not. You wanna be a paralytic?'.

Dean listened quietly as Caleb gave minor details about what had happened, not going into major things or what REALLY happened, which wasn't exactly helpful, but finally Caleb got to the point, saying that John was temporarily paralyzed, and needed physical therapy. 'Crap... how am I supposed to get my dad to do any of that? The man is more stubborn than a mule... and he sure as h*ll isn't going to take orders from me.' Dean thought. He moved forward, looking back at Sam with a look that said it was okay, then turned back to Caleb. "It's fine, he knows already." Dean told the hunter. "What did it?"

John groaned and looked over at Caleb as he said something about therapy, and pain meds. John was kind of out of it, because he was already on morphine, but he heard Dean's voice... Dean was here? How fast had he driven? 'Ah, you don't wanna know.' he thought to himself. 'It's your own D*** fault. You freaked the kid out, calling him like that.' he added mentally. He heard Dean ask what did it, and something about 'he already knows.' John answered before Caleb could. "'T was a... Poltergeist..." John muttered, his words slurring together a bit, but still understandable.

"How'd it die? What's the poltergeists' past?" Sam asked. They probably hadn't FINISHED the hunt, not after John had gotten injured. He only gave John a sideways glance before looking down at his feet, for the moment hoping to just talk about the unfinished hunt rather than, well, their family. Their very confused, messed up, hunter family.

"He was murdered, by his mining partners for gold. Every time somebody goes past the old, buried mine, he kills them, and this ancient, deeply buried mine just happens to be off to the side of an hiking trail." Caleb replied to the young, apparently an hunter, teenager. "At least his partners had the of burying him, giving him an actual grave. I dug it up, was about to do the simple salt 'n burn, before all the commotion. I ended up draggin' John out, blasting the ghost with rock salt, never got to finish the job."

Dean nodded quickly, getting the details. He looked over at Sam, then back at Caleb, and then down at John. "Caleb, would you give us a minute." he said quietly, looking at the older hunter, then back to his family members. Dean wanted until Caleb had left the room, then moved forward and sat down on the bed at John's feet. "Dad..." he began, but of course, was interrupted.

"Dean, you and Caleb need to... finish the job." he mumbled as he picked at the cast on his broken arm with his uninjured one. He looked at the kid that was standing awkwardly in the room. His drug addled mind wouldn't let him know who it was, and so instead, a thousand questions ran through his mind... the first of which being, why Dean didn't make the kid leave.

Sam frowned at the interruption, gritting his teeth together and looking around, obviously on edge. He just wanted to ask so many questions... but he didn't. He didn't say anything for the time being, just let the room fall into silence besides the beeping of the heart monitor.

"Sir, I think you should let your son finish what he was going to say." Sam finally spoke up, turning back to face John and meet his dark eyes with his own, blue and green ones. Eyes that SHOULD have been so familiar to the man. To John... to his dad.

Dean looked over at Sam, thinking, 'Crap... this isn't good. Both of them want different things, and neither of them is willing to listen.' "Yeah, Dad... I know. We'll take care of it... but we need to talk... like we REALLY need to talk." he said, his voice dropping to a low sound, resembling a growl.

Again, now that the worrying was over, he remembered how ticked he was that John hadn't told him about his brother. "Dean... people will..." John began, but this time, it was Dean who cut him off. "People will get hurt if we don't take it down? Yeah, Dad... I. KNOW." he said, pausing between words to get more of a point across. "We will take care of it... but not right now. If something happens, it's on me. NOW can we talk?" he asked, looking at John, his green-hazel eyes smoldering with something like rage, he just managed well enough that he didn't let it show beyond his over expressive eyes.

John sighed quietly and looked at Dean, and then at the other kid, who looked kinda fuzzy at such a far distance. "Dad, why didn't you tell me?" Dean asked, his voice calm, but John could tell he was ticked. "Tell you what?" John asked, thinking MAYBE Dean was talking about something else. "What happened in the fire..? BEFORE that even... why didn't you tell me I had a brother?" he asked, his voice hissing now. "I... I thought..."

John paused, suddenly realizing something... the kid, with Dean... was it? Could it be? John forced his eyes to open wider, and he looked at the kid, then at Dean. "Is that..." he mumbled, then looked at Sam. "Sam?" he asked quietly, his voice falling to a quiet level.


	9. Chapter 9: Promise

**WE'RE BACK! Here's the next chapter... hahaaaahahahha *random laughter* Well, if you're still reading, THANK YOU! **

John looked from Dean to the other kid, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. No, he had looked for his Sam... looked everywhere. He had looked through the house after, he had done everything... Sam had died in the fire. He didn't know who THIS Sam was... but he wasn't that Sam. He glared at the kid for a moment, then at Dean. How had this kid fooled Dean, who always managed to see through John's lies, but for some reason, was SO willing to trust this strange teenager. "Dean, who the h*ll is that really?" he asked angrily.

Dean returned John's glare, and looked slightly shocked at his father's outburst. "Dad... what'd'you mean, 'who the h*ll is that?' It's SAM." he answered, unwilling to just let John deny it... deny that this was Sam, his brother, John's son. No, he wouldn't let John deny it... or lie about it anymore.

"John-dad-John, It's me, I'm not lying, why the h*** would I lie about that?!" Sam suddenly butted into the two way conversation between Dean and John. The thirteen-year-old gritted his teeth, looking slightly paler than he had before, moving a hand to his side from the aprox. three-week old injury, flinching as he stared at John, without blinking.

John didn't notice Sam flinching, and in his anger, he wouldn't have cared even if he had seen. "Yeah? Well how would I know? You could be a shifter? H*ll, you could be a number of things... I don't know what MY Sam would look like at 13... but HE DIED!" John sat up, groaning in pain and slipping back into the bed weakly after his outburst. He still glared at Sam though, then over at Dean. "What the H*ll were you thinking, Dean? Bringing him here... telling me that he's Sam!" the oldest Winchester yelled at Dean.

Unlike John, Dean had noticed Sam grow paler, and moved closer to the younger teen as John started the yelling match. 'I should have known! D*mn it, I REALLY should have seen it coming... Of course Dad wouldn't believe me. He might not even WANT it to be true.' He sighed and looked at John with an intense stare. "Dad, stop yelling, you'll probably hurt yourself... more." he muttered, "Why is it SO hard for you to just TRUST me... or give me some freakin' answers Dad?" he asked angrily. "I've trusted you for 17 years... h*ll, I HAD to... is it to much too ask you to trust me this ONCE?" he asked. He then turned to Sam and asking quietly, "You okay?"

Sam waved a hand to Dean after his question, grunting nearly inaudibly as his only reply before he turned back to John. "I didn't die, I'm right-freakin-here!" Sam blurted, pain lines creasing on his face. He shakily dug out the pain killers from his backpack, dry swallowing them yet again before turning back to his biological father.

"I have d*** burn scars! My names Sam Winchester on the files! HOw can you just keep DENying it!?" he hoarsely shouted back, running an shaky hand through his hair, quaking. He pulled the neck of his shirt down just enough to see half of the scar before moving his hand again, "You're my biological father! Just start THINKING, 'Dad'!"

Dean looked at Sam as he said that he too had burn scars... so then Sam hadn't gotten out quite so safely... he had still been burned. Dean swallowed hard, adding yet another thing to the list of things he blamed himself for. "Dad... Sam... Please stop fighting." he muttered quietly, looking down at the white tiled floor, then back up at his family, which seemed to be crumbling faster than it was building up. He stayed at Sam's side, but looked at John with concern. Both of them, all that was left of his family, were pale, and neither of them looked too well.

John looked at Sam, and then at Dean, then at Sam again. "Don't tell me what to do! And DON"T YOU DARE call me 'Dad!' I don't know you! GET the H*ll out! And Dean, Don't you question my orders. You buy that kid a d*mn bus ticket back to wherever the h*ll he came from and make sure I never see him again. THAT'S AN ORDER." He hissed, then looked at Sam again. "Get out!" he bellowed.

Dean flinched and backed up slightly as his father was now yelling at him, and at Sam. His father's words hurt... had he heard right? Buy Sam a bus ticket and just shove him out the door? That's what John wanted? He shook his head and bit back a groan... this wasn't working out like he hoped.

He looked at John, saying, "No... not 'til I get some freakin' answers. I'm not doing ANYTHING... I don't CARE if it was an 'order.' He's my brother... and don't YOU... DARE tell me he's not! He never lied to me, Dad... that's more than I can say for you..." he whispered, then looked at Sam. "Wait outside, please?" Dean asked Sam, and then turned back to John.

Sam finally cringed at John's words, spinning around just after hearing what Dean had told him, only giving him an brisk nod as he walked out of the room, closing the door behind himself and leaning heavily against the wall just a few yards from the room. He had been right... his father didn't want him. Probably wished he HAD died in the fire. 'I'll wait till Dean comes out, tell him I'll just ask Uncle Jim to pick me up.' he thought to himself, sliding down to the floor and resting his head on his knees, he was distraught, upset, angry, and it was driving him to the brink, he was barely fighting the tears of exhaustion, pain, angst and bitter rage.

*DEAN/JOHN'S POV*

"He's NOT my son! Sammy's dead..." John choked out the last part quietly, before turning back to his believe-not attitude. "What 'freakin answers' do you want?! There's nothing to know!"

Dean frowned at John, his eyes flashing with disbelief, which quickly turned to anger. "You don't call him that..." he hissed when John said, 'Sammy.' "How can you say that? Did you WANT him to be dead?" he asked, instantly regretting the words... of course not... no parent would want that.

Dean swallowed hard and re-started. He did need answers, and he was going to get them. "Dad... please, just TRY to see things my way for once. I spent 13 years of my life with a hole in my memory that I couldn't fill... every freakin' time I asked you about it, you blew up in my face, and I NEVER complained, I never asked you WHY... and whenever I did... you would give me a D*mn lie... you told me I was an only child... what the h*ll happened that night? I remember Sam... I remember the day he was BORN... I remember his eyes staring up at me... and I PROMISED him I'd watch out for him... how could you not tell me?" Dean asked, his voice almost a whisper at the end.

John was about to snap at Dean for his 'Did you WANT him to be dead?' question, but after he continued talking, he couldn't seem to find the strength to. "It would only have hurt you more...! You didn't need to know! I found you in an... in an... HOle... in the floor, burning, and I just grabbed you and ran... M...Mary and Sam," he continued, then stopped as his voice cracked, "Mary and Sam were... dead... you, you didn't remember Sam, or the accident... and why would I ruin your life with that? That your little brother and mother died... and, for all I know, Sam... Sam could have died in your arms! I wasn't going to make you remember that d***, d*** fire!"

Dean frowned slightly, looking away from his father. He hadn't known or remembered that bit. He didn't know what had happened to Sam, but he did know that his little brother had survived, and that Sam was now out in the hallway of the hospital, alone, hurting, and thinking that John didn't want him.

"Dad..." Dean stopped and had to block his emotions to be able to speak at all. "It's not BETTER to know that you're missing HALF your life. Half the time, I was going crazy trying to remember even the smallest thing... Dad, you didn't have to save me from that... I had a right to know. He IS my brother... I know. I've spent three freakin' weeks with the kid..." he said quietly. "And don't tell me he's not, Dad... don't tell me that." he said quietly, and then changed the subject quickly before John could start yelling at him again. "How long was it before you found me... what happened...?" he asked haltingly.

John only let out a sigh, shaking his head and closing his eyes before starting to reply. "I told you. I found you in a part of the house where the floor collapsed, I just picked you up and ran outside. It couldn't have been more than two or three minutes that we were separated." John replied, opening his dark eyes again and staring up at Dean, shaking his head yet again, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Dean swallowed hard and ran both hands through his hair, not looking at John. He breathed a long sigh and finally turned to face his father. "I don't understand why you won't believe that's Sam... Dad... don't you WANT it to be? I know I sure do... Dad... If Sam did die in the fire... that would make it MY fault." he said quietly, not adding the, 'You telling me that Sam died hurts like h*ll for me, because if he did, that's because of me.' He sighed quietly and then looked into his father's eyes. "Why won't you just let yourself hope for once? Why won't you let ME?" he asked quietly.

"I'm sorry, Dean." John retorted as an only reply, looking straight up at the roof. He didn't know what answer Dean wanted, he didn't know what he was supposed to do, but he knew one thing; That Sam, wasn't Sam Winchester. He wasn't a Winchester. John snorted humorlessly, his mouth set in a grim line and his eyes traced the lines in the roof.

Dean pulled a chair over to the bedside and sat down in it resting his elbows on the edge of the bed, and letting his head fall into his hands. "Dad, don't apologize to me when I know you're not sorry... you don't believe Sam, and worse, you don't believe ME. You TRAINED me Dad... you spent 13 freakin' years teaching me right from wrong, how to kill about everything supernatural out there, AND you taught me to tell when someone isn't who they say they are... and you know what? Sam is who he says... I would know. Dad, if Mom was here... she would believe me." he said quietly, knowing that would open an old wound, one that probably hurt John more than anything physical that he had ever been through.

John ground his teeth together, an angry, don't-you-say-that expression on his face, though, deep down, somewhere, buried, he knew it was true. "D***it, Dean!" he hissed quietly, knowing the seventeen-year-old was just trying to get his point across... "What the h***? Yeah, I spent 13 years trying to protect you, keep you SAFE. Sammy's dead, Dean, just face it now and save yourself the pain of finding it out later."

Dean leaned hard against the back of the chair, putting distance between himself and his dad. He had never actually had a fight with the man, and he didn't want to know, but this was his brother they were talking about. He stayed leaning back, keeping himself away from John, and at the same time, he was building the wall that held back an ocean of his emotions, the ones that he never let John see. "He's not dead Dad. D****IT! He's NOT! You think you're protecting me by telling me that SH*T!? You're telling me that I'M the reason my baby brother is dead. why can't you just accept the fact that maybe Sam's NOT dead. We're in a FREAKIN' hospital Dad! It wouldn't be too much to ask for them to just do a few tests! What harm would that be? Or are you just afraid that I would be right, and that YOU DIDN"T LOOK FOR SAM!? Is that what you're afraid of?" he asked.

Dean bit his lip, regretting that he had just yelled at his father, but he wasn't about to take any of that back. He had to understand why John wasn't even trying... like he truly didn't want Sam to be alive. Dean did know better, he knew that John cared for Sam, but it was like John was just trying to deny everything, and he couldn't get WHY.

John trembled and rubbed an hand over his eyes, taking in an shaky breath. "Watch your tone, Dean!" he hissed angrily, fingers digging into the sheets. He let the room fall into silence for several moments before he spoke up again, brokenly, "If it IS Sam... Dean, what if he grew up alone? Or worse, abused, or... worse... and I didn't try enough to..." he stopped, not allowing the moment to turn into one big, great chick flick.

His frown deepened in thought, or something, he looked p**sed off now. Or maybe that was just his wall that he put up, you know, in case of emergency.

Dean sighed loudly, glad that he had gotten to his father. "He didn't." Dean began, smiling just slightly. He had done research… a lot of it. On the night when he had found out who Sam really was, he had stayed up and searched everything about Sam and his family. 'Creepy, sure… a little, but I had to know that Sam had a good life.' He thought. "He's got a family... and a whole bus load of siblings. Jake, Victor... Uh... a sister... some others I think, and his parents seem okay-ish. A bit apple pie... but they're not bad. They really care about him." Dean said quietly. "The Smiths... that's their last name. They adopted him when he was 6 1/2 months old, from Lawrence Kansas. Then they moved... and eventually, they ended up in Missouri. They've got him in a good school... well, it was good up until the shooting." he groaned slightly at that memory. "Sam's the top of his class in... well, h*ll, he's the top of his class in everything." he smiled slightly, figuring that one of the family had to be bright, it may as well have been Sam.

John nodded slowly and a small, sad smile twitched on his lips before fading again. He wasn't ever a part of Sam's life... one couldn't know what that felt like. To never be a part in your own child's life, to not know a d*** thing about them, except a name, if you're lucky... John shook his head to clear his thoughts, eventually looking back at Dean. "Dean, I uh... need to talk to Sam." he said in an gruff, concealing voice.

Dean's lips twitched in a slight smile, but he didn't move from his spot next to John's bed. "I can't watch you two yell at eachother again, okay? You're both all I've got... so promise me, please?" he asked quietly, looking at his father. His bright green-hazel eyes looked like they could be searching John's soul for the answer, as though he didn't need to wait for the words... but he did wait.

"Yeah, yeah I promise." John replied in a sand-papered tone before returning Dean's gaze, waiting for him to do something else, his own teeth finally stopped the constant grind together from stress.


	10. Chapter 10: End

Dean nodded once and stood up, walking toward the door and then heading out into the large, ominous hall. He wanted things to work out... in fact, he wanted it so badly that his head was starting to spin and he felt like he was about to black out.

Dean somehow managed to move all the way down the hall to where Sam was. He sat down beside Sam on the floor. "Hey..." he said quietly, waiting for Sam to look at him before talking again. "Dad can be a real pain in the $$ sometimes..." he started. "I think I got through to him... he didn't mean all that Sh*t he said to you, Sam." he said, his eyes pleading his younger brother to believe him. Someone had to, and it was clear that John hadn't wanted to. "He wants to talk to you..."

"What did I do to him? Why does he hate me?" The thirteen-year-old muttered dejectedly, shaking his head and letting out an half humorless laugh. He stood up from where he was sitting, nodding once to his older brother with an 'I won't start another screaming match, I promise.' expression before he walked into the room, letting out an quiet sigh before he walked forward towards the bed. "John, Sir?"

Dean was about to answer Sam's question when Sam stood and walked back into John's room. Dean sighed quietly, glad that at least ONE of his family members was willing to make things right. He followed Sam in and stood quietly at the edge of the room, watching Sam, then glancing at John.

John looked across the room as Dean and the other kid... Sam, walked in. John didn't know what to say, or what to do. He had blown up in the kid's face only 5 minutes ago... and if it was true... if the kid really was his son, then how was he going to apologize for that? 'Start simple...' he heard the thought in his mind and nodded at the wise words that were not really even his own.

He looked across the room at Dean, who was giving him a look that said, 'Please just get along.' He knew how badly his oldest son wanted a brother... he knew how badly Dean wanted this to be Sam, so John would try this... for Dean... and if this really was Sam, then... he didn't know what would happen, but things would change... for the whole family. "Sam... Uh, I'm sorry... for shouting at you... I just, you understand, this is very..." he stopped, 'Don't you dare start a fight in front of Dean again.' "I am sorry..." he said again, this time leaving out his excuse.

Sam looked slightly shocked, even though he had heard Dean as he had said earlier about getting through to him... it was still a shock, to hear him say that, or anything close to that, compared to what he had been saying earlier. "Uh..." he started, shifting awkwardly before cramming his hands into his front jean pockets. "No, it's okay Sir." he replied quietly. "I guess... I'll just say it straight, I'm sorry, Sir..." he said, shrugging lightly and moving on hand between the old injury, running through his dark brown hair, and scratching absent mindedly at the shoulder/chest scars.

Dean looked between the two of them, still half expecting the explosion, but nothing came. He let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding, then moved forward slightly, standing on one side of John's bed and looking at Sam, who kept calling John 'sir' which was odd to him. Yes, he called John sir at times… but it was odd for Sam to have to call John that.

John nodded once, and was now trying to come up with something to say to Sam. "I... uh, it's alright." he began, trying to come up with yet another thing to say. "So... uh, you and Dean... you've been talking much?" he asked awkwardly, his voice a grating, sputtering, and unsure sound.

"Yes, Sir." Sam answered, nodding several times and moving slowly, cautiously, farther towards the bed until he was standing somewhere in front of it. "'Bout a lot, I guess." he said aimlessly, shrugging yet again and looking towards Dean with an odd, un-readable expression before looking back at their father.

Dean stayed silent as his father and brother talked, not entirely sure he had anything to say, only hoping that they would get along... this time. It was like putting a wet cat and a dog in the same room and asking them not to fight, he knew that, but he was still doing it anyway.

**THIS IS IT, folks! Hope you enjoyed!**

John nodded at what Sam had said and blinked rapidly, trying to come up with something to say... what was there left to say? SO much, he knew, but none of it was coming to his mind and he didn't know why. 'Think John, IF this really was Sam... what would you want to know?' he thought. "So, Sam..." he began. "Your family treat you right?" he asked at last. Yes, Dean had already told him that they had, but he still needed to now... he needed to hear it from Sam.

"What?" Sam asked at the sudden question, frowning inwardly at the implications, although, he had wordlessly promised Dean he wouldn't start another fight... 'just answer the question.' he told himself and quietly sighed, heading for the white, plastic, hospital chair next to the bed, or one side of it, and sank down into it. "Yeah," he replied simply, smiling slightly and looking down at his clasped hands.

John nodded, glad that Sam's family had been good to him, if this was HIS Sam. John looked over at Dean and nodded, giving him a look that said, 'Sam and I can be alone without killing eachother.' He needed to speak to Sam, and he didn't feel the need to be supervised by Dean, so he effectively dismissed him with the look.

Dean returned his father's look with one of doubt, but turned and walked out of the room, heading into the hall. He stayed close enough to hear them if they did start getting at each other's throats again. He leaned back against the wall and breathed out a long sigh, now just waiting.

**SAM/JOHN'S POV**

"Hey so uh..." Sam started, before abruptly stopping again. He didn't know what to say. He had no idea what to say. 'What am I supposed to say?' he asked himself inside his mind, throwing back and forth thoughts and staring at his hands before finally looking up. "What happened? In the fire? IF you... if you thought I was dead? I don't understand... I thought.."

John shook his head. He didn't want to talk about this. He didn't even know if this was his son, so why should he talk about the fire to him? He barely spoke to Dean about this, and now Dean was telling him to talk to this complete stranger? He sighed and looked at Sam with a tired expression. "I did think... there was no way a 6-month-old could have survived in that building... and Dean was alone when I found him." John said, containing his anger and sadness at talking about the fire.

"But I- okay, yeah." Sam said, the emotion dying in his voice as he tried to keep his voice steady, with some wall, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't match John's well-practiced wall he put up. Sam rubbed his hands over his face, rocking back and forth slightly in the chair. "Everything fits... but I just don't understand. I couldn't have survived. You're right, but I just... I just want to believe... because everything, everything feels right for once."

John looked at Sam, who had just said everything feels right... 'D*mn it... that's what Mary would have said, that's what Dean says... why does this kid have to SEEM so right?' he thought, still desperately trying to tell himself that Sam was not this kid. Suddenly, a thought hit

John looked at Sam, who had just said everything feels right... 'D*mn it... that's what Mary would have said, that's what Dean says... why does this kid have to SEEM so right?' he thought, still desperately trying to tell himself that Sam was not this kid. Suddenly, a thought hit John. He knew that Sam barely knew him, h*ll, he didn't know him at all... so how could any of this 'feel right' to him. He knew it was because of Dean... must have been. His oldest son had spent 10 minutes fighting him just to talk to Sam... FIGHTING him. Dean never did that... not without a d*mn good reason.

John sighed loudly and looked at Sam. "I don't know what to tell you... I looked through the house... and I didn't find anyone other than Dean. He was out... I thought..." John stopped, a look of horror crossed his face. "I thought he was dead... he was barely breathing, and burned bad…" John said, pausing again. He ran one hand over his face and shoved his emotions back. "I got him out to the paramedics, and then went back in. Sam was... you... if it was you... were gone... I looked and looked, I asked the neighbors if any of them had seen a baby... but they said they hadn't, they only saw the fire fighters when they had shown up... I had nothing to go on." he said, looking at Sam, his eyes a mask of nothingness, hiding the pain behind them.

Sam shifted in the chair, swallowing back emotions after John had murmured, 'I thought he was dead... he was barely breathing...' He still stared at John, seeing the emotionless expression he wore on his face. A sigh erupted from Sam and he pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes wandering and staring distantly for several moments before focusing.

"I mean... everything fits... the burns, the age, the place, that... that... only-now-filled-Hole... that... missing... piece of the puzzle... just... I have to believe. I can't-not. PLease, just... say you believe me." he said, his voice breaking down into complete distress, cracking like old paint, chipping away until just a soft, broken murmur.

John looked away from Sam. It was true. The age... 13. It did fit. Burn scars... it made sense. Then, of course there was Dean's extreme over-protectiveness of this kid. Sure, Dean had always been somewhat protective of younger kids, but this Sam... it was different.

John growled inwardly. He still wasn't sure... he didn't want to think that he had let Sam stay out in the world without him... let Sam believe that his real family hadn't wanted him, or searched for him. He turned back to Sam and shrugged, his tense shoulders cracking at the movement.

He groaned and blinked rapidly, then answered. "I don't know, I just don't know what to tell you... I..." he paused. "Dean believes you... and that kid is never wrong." he sighed, knowing it was true... that bit was at least. 'Then why isn't that good enough?' he heard a voice in his head, not his own voice, but Dean's. He shook his head and focused on Sam again.

"Then why isn't that enough?" Sam asked, shaking his head and leaning back in the chair, staring at John through blue eyes, windows to a wounded soul. He looked away from the older man again, looking at his pale hands and tapping his fingers together aimlessly. "If you want, I can still just get that bus ticket back to my family."

John's eyes shot open and he cocked his head slightly, as though it had been some miracle that Sam had said what he had thought only moments before. He regained his composure, but his eyes still held the shock there. When Sam asked about the bus tickets, he sighed resignedly. Yes, he did think that was best, but Dean would not allow that. He would insist on driving Sam back to wherever he lived. So, if Sam was going home, Dean would be taking him. "No... y' don't have to." he answered.

Sam only nodded in reply, seeming oddly interested in an piece of lint that had come off his shirt, avoiding John's gaze for the most part as he stared down at the fuzz in his palm. He finally seemed to snap back to the present, standing up off the chair and taking a few steps away, "I won't waste anymore of your time." he said, but paused, for some reason moving back to stand next to the bed, his eyes searching John's face for something.

John watched Sam turn to leave, then come back. He said nothing for several moments, seeing the expression on Sam's face as though he was searching for something. John's mouth opened and closed, uselessly trying to find something to say. Sam's expression was the same... the same as Mary's and Dean's when they would stare at something intently. 'D*mn.' he thought. He looked at Sam's blue-green eyes, the color was right... could he really be Sam? Was there a chance?

Sam shook his head at nothing in particular, and after moments of silence, he did something that surprised himself.

Wrapping his arms around his biological father who lie, temporarily a paralytic, on an hospital bed, he pulled him into an weak, quaking hug, his side rebelling from the sudden motion and position, a groan escaping him. His emotions finally broke down the dam, a choked, broken sob breaking from his chest before he pulled away from John, swallowing rapidly and sniffing before repositioning the backpack on his back, every movement and emotion that crossed his face as if he was fighting a loosing battle to regain composure and rein in his thoughts and feelings. Quickly spinning on one shoe, he sluggishly moved towards the door, shoulders slumping.

John flinched slightly at the sudden and unexpected action from Sam, he watched as the kid was leaving the room. He didn't know what to do... what to say. He swallowed hard, confusion his only feeling. Sam believed that they were a family. Sam clearly believed it. He wasn't just faking, he wasn't lying to get something... he truly believed that, and John couldn't understand why. Reasons hit him like a train. The burns, the age, the eyes, the way that he and Dean get along. The next thought made John blush slightly. 'D*mn, that kid fights like me.' He coughed quietly, and before Sam could reach the end of the room, John called after him. "Where d' you live, Sam? Like… where exactly."

"6 Alex rd, Ashton Street, Albany Missouri. Why?" Sam replied, ignoring John's flushed face as he looked over his shoulder right before the door, his hand gripping the cold, metal, an patient, waiting facial gesture.

John nodded once and shrugged slightly. "We may stay nearby there then... Dean and I." he said, figuring it would do no harm. Besides, the more he talked to this kid, the more he wanted him to be Sam. He was smart, he got along with Dean... AND Sam was definitely not afraid of telling people what he thought. Of course, that kind of irked John, but still, it was a good thing, and John knew it.

Sam nodded briskly, an small, timid smile briefly flashing across his face before he turned and moved out of the room, closing the door behind himself. He walked towards Dean, who was still outside the door leaning against the wall, offering an half wave to his big brother before he pulled off his backpack and joined him in leaning against the wall, the backpack sliding through his fingers to the ground.

Dean looked at Sam as he came out of the room. Nope, no yelling match evident, and both of them lived through it. He smiled wryly at the thought, but said nothing of it. "So... what'd he say?" he asked, looking at Sam and then back at the door, then at Sam again.

"He uh... I don't know if he even believes it, still." Sam replied with an useless shrug. "Question though... how often have you seen him blush?" he asked with an quiet, trying-to-help-the-mood laugh and an forced smile as he turned to look at Dean, who was looking at him still, just after glancing at the door then back to him.

Dean's eyes widened slightly and he grinned at Sam. "Like... once... maybe." he answered, laughing at the image of John, the too-tough-to-show-his-feelings father he had grown up with, blushing. He shook his head to clear the strange image and then asked, "Did he change his mind?" He figured Sam would understand what he was asking. As in, 'did he change his mind about leaving you on some bus all alone.'

"Uh... yes, he did." Sam said, nodding at an odd sideways angle. "Oh, he did say you would be staying somewhere close for a while..." he informed him, smiling slightly again.

Dean smiled and nodded once. That was good. Because, if John hadn't said they would, he would have forced his father to find a place close. He wasn't going to leave Sam alone... never again. "Okay." he said, looking around and seeing a nurse walk into John's room, smiling at them as she passed. She came back out a few minutes later with the same smile, stating that their father would be well enough to leave within the next few days.

**Postlogue**

After several days at the hospital, John was finally released, and Dean drove both his father and brother back to Missouri.

After weeks of PT, John had control over walking and moving again.

Dean began remembering more from after (And during) the fire... including the stranger who had taken Sam from him, and left him in the house... the stranger with the yellow eyes.

John and Dean stayed around Missouri, Sam was torn between his real family and his adoptive family, a feeling of being split in half.

So, as compromise, John and Dean rented a house in the same neighborhood as Sam and his adoptive family. That is, after Dean practically threatened John with death if he didn't stop hunting for Sam.

Of course, they still hunt if something comes to Missouri, or somewhere close.

So, Sam got to know his biological family, and be able to stay near and with his adoptive family at the same time.

- 


End file.
